The Wizard of the Kaleidoscope
by OnTheImportanceOfLungs
Summary: What does it take to destroy something completely? Some would be fine with eradicating its soul. Others would argue that you must erase even the concept of the object from existence. AU, with a notoriously complex Magic system.
1. The Eyes of Misery

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter, nor the Mangekyo Sharingan

Author's note: My Beta Nlaw is doing this Retroactively. Heart of gold, he has...

**Mangekyo**

He was three when it happened. He had just learned the meaning of fear, of pain, when his uncle's hand rose to strike him once again.

His perception of the world slowed, it became... sluggish, to a degree. A million whispered languages were in his ears, a timeless moment, and he settled on...

"Sharingan."

It was a whispered word, but it held so much power. It was with that word, a dam was broken.

He moved out of the way as fast as possible, and his uncle managed to hit only the wall he was standing next to. When he closed his eyes, in preparation for the next blow, time sped up again, and he didn't feel as if he were moving through molasses anymore.

"Sharingan."

The world slowed again, and he looked around the room, at the fearful eyes of his 'family', and then the world slowly faded to black as he passed out from exhaustion.

**Mangekyo**

It was the only word that made any sense in his world. The only thing that marked him as anything different, anything more, anything beyond, anything _transcendent_.

So, for years, that was the only word he ever said.

"Sharingan." The world became a red haze, and he understood how things... worked. He understood what people were about to do. He understood what people thought, most of the time, the little expressions they made, known only to the world as microexpressions, before they acted.

Then it changed again.

When he was seven, Dudley attempted to hit him with a bat. His eyes itched for just the slightest moment, and the single comma marks in his eyes (he had looked up what the mark was, too, in a dictionary he had to teach himself how to read) sprang into existence.

Dudley became even slower, the world became sluggish yet again, and he felt inexplicably stronger. He even managed to grab the bat and wrench it from Dudley's hands.

Dudley's face changed in very, very slow motion, so slow that he would have noticed it without the Sharingan, and he screamed. The scream was also so very slow. He heard the difference in the warbles that Dudley made.

The Sharingan was different now. It had two comma marks per eye, instead of one, and they rotated around the invisible circle that the original had, with more speed than ever before.

**Mangekyo**

He was just as fast without the Sharingan, and just as able. Fighting became second nature to him.

A group of boys had cornered a girl in a back alley, and their laughs and jeers rang out. His ears, so much more sensitive now, due to his understanding of sound, picked up on a lone, distant cry.

It wasn't a cry of help, or anything an nine year old would understand. It was a primal cry, one of the wounded, the defeated, the destroyed. No child should have understood it.

But he did. He understood it better than anyone in the world for his eyes were those of one who has seen misery and lived to see more.

He heard it, and he was enraged. Words rang through his mind. _No one should be subjected to this_.

His eyes itched more than last time. If he looked in a store window as he ran through the sluggish red haze, he would have seen three, rapidly spinning comma marks.

But all he cared about now was getting to the source of the singular cry of help. His speed was superhuman as he tore through the air and an familiar feeling that he attributed to his eyes ran through his muscles and veins.

A prepubescent fist snapped outwards and crushed a boy's windpipe.

His elbow had found its way into a nose, destroying it and sending a shard of cartilage rocketing into another boy's brain before anyone on the scene realized what was happening.

The girl screamed, a raw catharsis of disbelief. But the relief was evident in her eyes, her partially naked form hidden in the shadows.

He didn't stop. A finger slid into the soft tissue behind another boy's ears, and even as he fell to the ground, gurgling and choking on his own blood, a heavy kick had been aimed for the last boy's solar plexus, snapping the lowest rib and driving it his heart.

The girl gasped in surprised, but he was gone.

She, too, ran away. The crime was never solved.

**Mangekyo**

He was ten when he discovered he could speak to snakes in a zoo.

He was as surprised as anyone. He was dragged forcibly away, and back into the Dursley car.

When they arrived at Number Four Privet Drive, his uncle tried to raise a fist to him, but even without his Sharingan active, he saw it coming easily, and ducked out of the way, and into his cupboard.

He discovered a little grass snake in the garden, newly born, and befriended it. Its name was Ovid, short for its species, and it wasn't particularly bright, but it was better company than any of the others in the house.

It was particularly fascinated with his Sharingan eyes, and theorized at great length about it, before deciding that it was a gift from the great Basilisk, and it was a blessing.

He disagreed. On different days, he believed that either his eyes were begotten of his misery, or his misery was begotten of his eyes.

One warm July morning, his aunt stuck her head inside his cupboard, and saw a small snake coiled next to her hated nephew's head.

She shrieked, and brought a kitchen knife down on it.

Harry woke to the dead body of his only friend, and wept.

He wept and wept, until his eyes began to burn. Then he wept some more. The burning increased, and pain that he had never felt before - it was always misery, never true pain, lanced through him.

And then he knew another word, one that preceded Sharingan in his mind's eye.

**Mangekyo**

He stared into the entryway mirror as his uncle told him to get the mail.

"Mangekyo Sharingan."

An alien, three-petalled flower appeared in the mirror, each petal connected by an ever-thinning line.

And he knew that this held a whole new level of misery, a whole new level of power.

He saw little distortions in time and space. He felt flames building in his right eye, ready to destroy things with impunity. He felt the thoughts and even memories of others in his left eye. And he knew he needed only three words to activate any of these new feelings.

He read a letter addressed to a Mr. H. Potter.

Apparently, he was a wizard.

Did wizard describe people with Sharingan eyes?

Or did it describe people with Mangekyo Sharingan eyes?

He began to laugh, for the first time in nearly eight years. He laughed and laughed, clutching onto the paper in front of him. He grabbed a marker off of a desk, and scribbled 'OK' on the back of the paper.

He concentrated on the name Professor McGonagall, and on the rips in space-time. "Kamui." The paper disappeared.

Then he stared at the owl. He remembered briefly that owls were the natural predators of snakes.

"Amaterasu." The owl burned to ash in front of him.

He went back into his cupboard.


	2. The Eyes of Magic

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter, nor the Mangekyo Sharingan.

Quick clarification: It's the same Mangekyo as Kakashi's. Only Harry has two.

Thanks: Anonymous Reviewer, who pointed out my monetary values (29 and 17) were reversed

**Mangekyo**

"Albus! Albus!"

"What seems to be the matter, Minerva? Here, take a lemon drop."

"No thank you, Albus. I came here to inform you that the letter I sent Harry Potter, with the required books and items has been returned to me, with an OK scribbled onto the back."

"Perhaps the boy didn't read the entire letter. I remember that when I discovered accidental magic, I was four, mind you, I wouldn't sleep or eat for days. Perhaps he has been brought up as a muggle. I will send Professor Flitwick to take him shopping. I am sure no harm will befall the boy." Dumbledore decided that Harry would be a textbook Gryffindor.

**Mangekyo**

"Harry, get the door!"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." Harry's face was impassive, but a slight spark of resentment was visible in a bottle green eye. He stood up and opened the door anyway.

In front of him was an intensely short man dressed in some sort of dress and wearing a tall, pointed hat. "Are you Harry Potter?"

The man's face had broken out into a wide grin. Harry nodded once.

"I am here to take you shopping at Diagon Alley!" the man squeaked excitably. "I am Professor Flitwick, and I will be teaching you charms at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your mother was one of my favorite students."

"Did my mother have eyes like mine?"

"Oh, yes she did. They were the exact same shade! I'm surprised you know that!" the man beamed.

Harry frowned. He hadn't even activated his Mangekyo Sharingan yet. "Did she have a Sharingan?"

"Oh, she kept all sorts of exotic pets. I wouldn't know. But I'm willing to bet that she did!" the man continued to beam. Harry decided that the beaming was due to his sunny personality.

"I see. Well, lead the way."

"Wouldn't you like to-" the professor blinked. Harry had his coat and sneakers on already. He frowned, as he had not even seen Harry move, then decided that his skills - once on par with the World Champion of Duelists, had been dulled by time and age. Or perhaps Harry's coat and sneakers had been on the entire time.

He grabbed Harry by the aim and apparated into the apparition point at the Leaky cauldron.

"Was that-"

"That wasn't teleportation, though it is very similar. Wizards use it to move their particles through the air very, very quickly. It is called apparition. You set a destination, concentrate on it, and decide that you would be there. It's not terribly difficult, but you must wait until your sixth year to learn it, and you must be an adult to get a license."

Harry frowned. He was about to ask if the professor had used the Kamui, but then decided that it was a lost cause. If the professor had believed that the Sharingan was an animal of some sort, he would not know the intricacies of the Mangekyo.

They walked into the bar side by side, and ask he appeared, everyone hushed. The women drinking sherry froze with their glasses halfway to their lips. The men with mouthfuls of ale didn't swallow. The bartender gaped open-mouthed.

Harry wondered if it were rehearsed, and they did it every time people walked in, to make them feel important. Then he wondered if it were because they were all dressed as the professor was, and he wasn't. He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly.

Then, all at once, he was swarmed. They all bounded towards him, and he wondered if he should have activated his Sharingan just in case, but all they wanted to do was shake his hand.

A man with a purple turban, sitting on a corner bar stool was the only one that didn't greet him, instead choosing to look at him shrewdly. Harry doubted he would have noticed if he hadn't had so much practice with the Sharingan, observing everything in his line of vision and processing it all at once.

Surprisingly, Flitwick walked up to the man. "Harry, this is Professor Quirrell. He will be teaching you Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"P-p-pleased to m-meet you, Mr. P-p-potter." The shrewd look was gone, replaced by a perfect wide-eyed innocence, and some sort of paranoia. Harry frowned, then decided to use a trick he'd thought of in order to remember everything teachers wrote on the board without freaking them out, or copying the exact way they wrote for hours.

_Mangekyo Sharingan_, he thought, very loudly, then closed his eyes immediately, and let the power in his eyes recede.

There was something off with the man. It was almost if there were two different signatures within the man, one of them malignant, and the other one even more so. Harry briefly wondered if the man had been possessed by a demon.

Flitwick thought that Harry's eyes had flashed red for a moment, but then realized there was a low bar light which was a terribly bright red shining down on Harry, and rolled his eyes. There was nothing about this polite child that reminded him of You-Know-Who after all.

"Okay, as much as we would love to stay and talk about the differences between our courses, I must insist that Harry get his books in a timely manner. Good day, Quirinus!" Flitwick walked to the back of the bar, and walked outside with Harry.

Harry stared at the brick wall apathetically. He felt _magic_ all but radiating off of it. Truthfully, it was pretty badly done. His Mangekyo Sharingan saw the magic in every living creature, and could pick out when people were trying to hide their magic, like Professor Flitwick, or when they didn't have much magic, like a bunch of the older woman drinking sherry in the bar. This wall seemed to be shoddily done.

Flitwick tapped the brick wall at several locations, and the wall shifted out of the way to reveal a gleaming marketplace, with shops and vendors hawking their wares and, presumably, other wizards and witches buying, selling, and socializing.

Harry realized that Flitwick was looking at him expectantly, then decided to humor the old man, who had been very patient with his question so far. He smiled widely (an action which he was unused to, and possibly unsuited to).

Flitwick wasted no time in dragging him into the bank, with a foreboding warning to thieves on the doors, and made entirely of white marble. Harry quickly realized the resemblance between the creatures, which Flitwick called goblins, and the professor himself. Harry wondered Flitwick was fully human, but decided against asking.

After a cart ride, he was shown the effects of tampering with vault security - a decade of rotting inside the vaults, which Flitwick claimed was the best protected place in the world, aside from in Hogwarts itself. The goblin frowned at Flitwick.

Harry expected a small sack of bills in his vault, but was rather surprised to find mountains of gold. The goblin, Griphook, explained that the bronze knuts were twenty nine to a silver sickle, which were seventeen to a gold galleon.

Harry wondered if there was a magical significance behind those specific prime numbers, and asked. The professor and the goblin gave a fifteen minute joint lecture about a magical discipline known as Arithmancy, and by the end of it, Harry concluded that the numbers chosen were simply mathematically glorified good luck charms. He kept it to himself.

The first shop they visited, after Harry had withdrawn around a hundred galleons, was Ollivander's Fine Wands, founded in a time that Greek men debated on the stone steps of buildings in Athens. Harry noticed a low-powered, but highly sophisticated invisibility illusion on the wandmaker as he flashed his Mangekyo Sharingan.

He walked up to the man, who seemed to be trying to sneaking around the cluttered desk with several woods and unfinished wands. "Hello, I'd like a wand please."

The man jumped, flickering into existence. Flitwick jumped too. The man, who Harry decided was Ollivander, looked as if he were about to squeak, then went straight to the wand selection process.

Harry tried wand after wand, while Ollivander snatched them away and grew more and more excited. Harry stayed calm the entire time, and fought the urge to burn the wand shop to the ground and take the wand which survived the conflagration.

After nearly an hour (according to the large grandfather clock on display in a timepiece store across the street), Ollivander gave him a wand that worked. Harry quickly paid the seven galleons, and walked out of the store at noon.

Flitwick squeaked. "Oh my. I promised Professor Dumbledore that I'd pick up a package for him at Gringotts! I had forgotten while explaining Arithmancy to you."

"Sorry, Professor."

"No no, my dear boy, I love to teach. Don't worry about it. If you're done with your shopping, you can go ahead and walk out of the Leaky Cauldron. Put out your arm, and the Knight Bus will appear. For several sickles, they'll get you home. Remember, you cannot use your wand at home!"

"Thanks, Professor."

Harry spotted Quirrell walking up the street, and decided to engage the man in conversation. He could tell the man was impatient, so he did his best to stall the man with complicated questions that had simple answers, and open ended questions that led to a bunch of other questions, such as 'What type of magical creatures are out there?' or 'What's the difference between a curse and a charm?' In the heat of the moment, Quirrell forgot to continue stuttering, which Harry easily noticed.

He thanked the Professor and walked into the bookstore, Flourish and Blotts. He was on a mission.

He took out every spellbook he could see, from Magical Dueling to Cooking Charms to Hair Charms, and sat in an isolated corner. The stack of books was easily four feet high, containing nearly thirty books.

He activated his Sharingan, and began to leaf through the books, one page at a time, memorizing each page. No one noticed, as the owner and the assistant were busy with customers for nearly three hours.

After he finished the last book in his pile, Curses and Countercurses by B. Whichhing, and feeling vaguely ill due to the long term usage of his Mangekyo Sharingan, he wandered out of the bookstore with the books on the booklist that Flitwick had left with him.

He quickly bought the books on his list, and the various potion ingredients and attire.

He ducked into an alley, activated his Sharingan, thought of his cupboard, and examined the air for rips and tears, then whispered, "Kamui."


	3. The Eyes of Others

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter, nor the Mangekyo Sharingan.

**Mangekyo**

"Quiz me, mom!"

The eleven year old girl could only be described as precocious. Though she was content with 'genius' or 'extremely intelligent'.

"Very well, Hermione", Mrs. Granger sighed, and opened to a random page of _A Thousand and One Magical Herbs_.

After several minutes, Hermione grew impatient. "Did you know that the Headmaster of my school is Albus Dumbledore? He's won hundreds of awards, and is the most powerful wizard in the world. I'm going to be in the same year as Harry Potter too! He's supposed to have enough power to take on any dark wizard alive and win and he's going to be light years ahead of us because he's been killing dragons since he was seven and he's going to teach us a lot of very powerful magic because he's kind and generous and a true Gryffindor!"

Her mother smiled, and wondered if Hermione had been reading too many fantasy novels.

**Mangekyo**

"I'm telling you, Albus, he's a shoo-in for my old house!" Flitwick bragged proudly.

"Surely you must be mistaken. Harry's parents were both-"

"No! He has all of Lily's inquisitiveness with none of the mischief! He listened patiently to a fifteen minute talk about Arithmancy from a vault goblin and myself, and asked questions that demonstrated his understanding of what we were saying. Most fifth years would have had trouble staying awake if I'd-"

"Very well, Filius", Dumbledore nodded. "The package?"

Flitwick put a small paper bag onto Dumbledore's desk. "Thank you, Filius. I must prepare now."

Flitwick left Dumbledore to his thoughts.

**Mangekyo**

Nearly two months had passed when the first of September dawned. Harry woke at six in the morning to a very persistent alarm clock, and the slight illusion he'd placed over his aunt forced her awake as well. There would be no excuses stemming from tiredness today. They would take him to King's Cross, and it was final.

"Why do you want to go to King's Cross of all places anyway, boy?" his Uncle wondered.

"School requires it." Harry was curt, and much less polite than usual.

"Watch your tone, boy." Harry narrowed his eyes, but didn't choose to speak. He pulled his trunk out of his cupboard and into Vernon's car.

"Dad, why does Harry get to go away to school?" Dudley whined.

"Because he's a freak", Petunia replied. Harry ignored them. If he didn't, they'd say worse and worse things, and he'd lose control. Then he'd probably damage them in some way, and would have to rely on a map and Kamui to get to King's Cross, where he'd never been before. So he narrowed his eyes again instead.

Harry and Vernon arrived at King's Cross at nine in the morning, managing to evade the majority of the morning traffic. "Have fun finding Platform Nine and _Three Quarters_!" Vernon sneered nastily as Harry pulled his trunk free from the confines of the car.

Harry stood rather nonplussed between Platforms Nine and Ten. He stared at the brick support beams between the platforms and wondered if he had to tap three quarters of the bricks or something like it. He sighed, and his ears picked up on a very interesting conversation.

"So in the next two hours or so, Harry Potter will show up here, not knowing how to get onto the platform?"

"Yes, I need you to look for a bewildered looking lost boy with Lily's eyes, and possibly an owl. He's probably shorter than average, and very thin."

"Why would he be-"

"Don't worry about it, Molly. Just find a way to attract his attention, make sure he strikes up a friendship with Ron. There will be forces out there to corrupt the boy, and we can't have that."

Harry ducked behind a pillar very quickly and spoke quietly. "Mangekyo Sharingan."

He looked around the corner, and realized that there was a gaping hole streaming magic from the pillar which the woman stood next to. The other speaker, possibly an older man, was gone. But he had probably been gone when Harry heard the small pop.

A wave of commuters passed, and he joined the crowd. The woman wasn't paying much attention, opting to mumble about 'muggles'. Harry wondered what muggles were for a moment, then slipped past the woman, narrowly dodging her shockingly red hair, and passing the barrier easily.

A huge scarlet train was very suddenly visible. Harry shrugged and found a compartment near the middle of the train and tucked it into the luggage hold. He sat down and stared down at the slowly milling people with his Mangekyo Sharingan, memorizing every motion, every walk, and gauging each face for intentions.

Time passed quickly, despite the fact that he perceived time sixteen times slower than it actually was - as more people appeared on the platform, the categorizing became more difficult, though he made sure to get profiles on each and every student, especially those without colors on their robes, or looked particularly nervous. They would likely be in his year.

It was fantastic how little attention he attracted - his turned head gave an image of sleep, and his small stature and unruly hair marked him as someone shy, so the majority of the students passed him by.

When the clock struck eleven, a huge bunch of redheads rushed through the barrier. Harry pumped more magic into his Mangekyo Sharingan and forced himself to watch with more vigour than usual.

He quickly profiled them. The mother walked next to them, and seemed to be refraining from the impulse to hug her children. The two twin boys were _bouncing_, and seemed very happy for unknown reasons. The older boy was plain looking, prim and proper. The smaller boy seemed resentful of something, and the little girl looked ready to cry.

Harry closed his eyes in exhaustion. He had already expended a large amount of energy watching for the people who seemed to be new to the magical world, who generally showed up between ten and ten forty-five, unlike the more experienced, older students who showed up for the train just in time to meet their friends.

Harry snorted quietly and disabled his Sharingan. He understood friends, alright. They were good to you, they were precious, but ultimately, they were taken away. His aunt Petunia had friends - that is, until they offended her, or she, them, in some way. Dudley had friends, but they didn't even like each other - they had only shared a temporary truce in order to pick on those younger than them. Vernon had friends, but they were just business associates whom he plastered a fake smile on for.

The true problem was that with the Sharingan, even the most beautiful of things became ugly for him. He realized that the majority of people hid disgusting thoughts that were only visible under the red haze of Misery. They didn't truly have friends. He had a friend once, but two months ago, his friend was destroyed. And it was his fault. If Dudley had a pet snake, Petunia would feed it, not knife it.

Harry began crying, and his Mangekyo activated again. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, then realized that he was crying blood.

He narrowed his eyes slightly and quickly cast an illusion over his face with the help of his left eye, and wiped away the blood with a tissue.

The train had begun moving long ago, and it rocked for a moment when the door to the compartment slid open.

"Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville has- oh. There's only one person in here, silly me, have you seen a toad though, because Neville has lost one and I promised to help him find it, and I would really appreciate it if-"

"Quiet down" Harry said absentmindedly, wiping away the last of the blood.

"Oh my god, you're bleeding, are you okay, where have you been bleeding from, I can't see anything on your face but-"

"I'm bleeding from the ears", Harry said, rather coldly. "And no, I have not seen a toad named Neville, or any toad at all." Harry adjusted his hair, which had fallen in front of his right eye.

"Oh my god, you're Harry Potter! You're in-"

"A whole lot of fiction stories at the bookstore."

"Not just fiction books! You're in-"

"Spare me."

Hermione blushed, and an awkward silence commenced.

"Aren't you going to ask me for my name?"

"If you insist", Harry sighed. "What's your name?"

"I'm Hermione Granger, and I'm muggleborn. I'm from-"

"Thank you for telling me your name."

"Can't you just be a little bit cooperative? I'm new to the Wizarding world, and, and, and you're Harry _Potter_, you've clearly been raised to be a great wizard all your-"

"Make no assumptions and you will offend no one." The room temperature dropped twenty degrees. Hermione shivered.

"Anyway. It was nice meeting you!" she squeaked, and left as quickly as she came in.

Unfortunately, a group of wandering redheads heard her exclaim "Harry Potter!" very loudly, and they rushed into the compartment. Harry glared at a faraway tree.

"Blimey! Is the great-"

"Harry Potter truly-"

"In this compartment?"

"Who's that?" Harry bit out sarcastically.

"I'm Fred", claimed the boy on the right.

"And I'm George", claimed the boy on the left. They were identical twins.

"We're the Weasleys", they chorused.

"And I'm Ron", claimed a huff and puffing boy behind them. He had no house colors, so Harry assumed that he was also a First Year.

Harry didn't respond, opting to judge them silently. Apparently, they were supposed to find him and befriend him. He narrowed his eyes for what must have been the eighth or ninth time in the past three hours, and let the silence fill the room.

After two minutes (Harry counted the seconds), he nodded. "Okay."

He had used the most dismissive tone he could muster - it was akin to funeral bells, tolling and knelling the currency of finality.

"We're going to go see Lee's tarantula now, Ron." The twins seemed to have heard the dismissal, but Ron was as dumb as bricks. He sat down, completely oblivious to Harry, who was as close to fuming as he had ever been.

"So, can I see your s-"

"No."

"But-"

"Asking to see people's body parts is both invasive and rude."

That silenced the boy. He sat there awkwardly as Harry gazed out the window. Nearly fifteen minutes later, the compartment door slid open again. It took all of Harry's mental faculties to suppress the groan bubbling up from within him.

"The word is that Harry Potter is in this train compartment." The blond boy who had apparated with his father into the Platform as if he owned it was now in the doorway. Harry may have been new to the Wizarding World, but even he realized that such an apparition must have been intensely rude. After all, why were apparition points set up if they weren't to be used?

"That's him." Ron pointed at Harry, who didn't even turn around.

"You, wake up!" Harry turned around slowly, and affixed his (once again) narrowing eyes on the newcomer.

"I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." Ron snorted. Harry stared impassively.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who _you_ are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

Harry, predictably, narrowed his eyes. He enjoyed a good insult as much as anyone else, but this boy just rubbed him the wrong way.

"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." Malfoy held out a hand with perfectly manicured nails.

Harry stared at the hand impassively and at the boy. The Weasley seemed to be intensely tense, hoping he wouldn't accept the handshake, and Harry nearly shook the boy's hand on principle, but he decided that there was a chance that he'd despise this boy much more than he hated Weasley.

He decided to lie. He yawned convincingly. "I don't know what's going on. My uncle brought me to King's Cross several hours ago, and everyone's been so loud I've barely gotten a wink of sleep. Can you both _leave_?" He layered the word with a compulsion, his left eye flashing red for a moment.

The two boys smiled, looking mildly dazed, and left. Harry slammed the door and stared out the window. He wondered if his actions qualified as brooding, but dismissed it in favor of reprocessing everything he'd seen that day.

**Mangekyo**

A seventh year girl from Hufflepuff house, decked in robes with yellow trimmings walked slowly through the single, long corridor on the Hogwart's Express. She had been already accepted into Unspeakable training and Auror, despite being a year younger than all the other prospective candidates.

The fact was, she owed it all to someone she didn't even know.

She didn't know if he was a wizard or a muggle, or even a werewolf. He had moved so fast that she doubted, from her Occlumenic reviews of the memory, that she could match him even now. All she remembered was his dark hair, and those beautiful, spinning red eyes.

He had killed all four of them when they caught her without a wand. So she knew she had to become stronger. Because she would likely never see him again. She had no doubt that the kills were a sacrifice to the boy. The look of hurt in his eyes, the anguish over killing a fellow human being was burned into her memory, Occlumency or not.

She had moved soon afterwards, in an attempt to get on with her life, but her only closure came from brutal training. She knew she was still scarred. She had never felt graceful again, tripping over the hem of her robes, or walking into solid objects as her mind wandered. She promised herself that she'd match him one day, and on that day, she'd be herself again.


	4. The Eyes of Hats and Snakes

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter, nor the Mangekyo Sharingan.

**Mangekyo**

By the time the train ground to a halt, Harry had actually fallen asleep for nearly three hours, in his school robes. Hermione came by again, nearly telling him that he should change into his school robes, but realized that he was dressed. She quickly left, but Harry woke up anyway. His ears had become super-sensitive to the opening of compartments.

Harry was advised by a passing prefect to leave his trunk in place. He nodded once, and exited the train.

"Firs' years o'er here!" A huge man was bellowing at the top of his lungs. He had a huge shaggy beard and hair that seemed to be joined to his beard. The candlelight reflected off of his huge round face, and his black eyes, which Harry decided were warm and inviting.

"No more than four to a boat!" The man had guided them to the edge of a lake.

Harry climbed into a boat rather gracefully, and decided that watching his various classmates struggle to get on, splashing each other, and throwing up from the incessant rocking, was intensely funny. Ron Weasley was making a beeline toward him, so he shifted his center of gravity a bit. As Ron threw an enthusiastic leg into the boat, the boat bounced, and it flipped him face first into the cold, cold lake.

Hermione Granger decided that she would try to talk to Harry Potter again, and delicately stepped into his boat, sitting down next to him. He ignored her entirely. She took a deep breath, and mustered her courage.

"Hello!"

"Hey, Hermione!" Neville literally jumped into the boat. Hermione sighed as she was hit by a slight wave of water, and her hair frizzled - more than it usually did, giving it a bushy appearance. Harry was entirely dry, even as she dripped.

Neville, too, had fallen into the water. He and Ron, who was thrashing like a dying man, helped each other out of the water, and they both attempted to get onto the boat, with much more care than they did before. Harry sighed, and decided that getting rid of them, or jumping over them, would attract too much unwanted attention, and proceeded to ignore the rest of them as they made small talk. He decided he made a great elephant in his corner.

The boats began to move, magically, across the waters. Harry flashed his Mangekyo, and studied the strands of magic that allowed them to move in his mind. He discovered that it was a relatively simple enchantment.

"Once we round this bend, we'll see Hogwarts!" Ron exclaimed, echoing Hagrid, and trying, for the eight unsuccessful time, to draw Harry into conversation.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Aren't you going to introduce yourself to Neville?"

"If you're going to bother me about it." Harry took a deep breath. "Hello Neville. My name is Harry."

"Hi Harry!" Neville spoke loudly, and timidly, creating a strange dichotomy that reminded Harry of very large mice. "I'm Neville Longbottom. I didn't quite catch your last name."

"He's Harry Potter."

"You're _the_ Harry Potter?" Neville stared, bug-eyed.

"I generally don't refer to myself as _the_ Harry Potter, but, yes."

"My gran says..."

Harry immediately shut his ears off, and pretended to hear only the sound of the sloshing waters. He was saved by the sight of Hogwarts looming over them. He stared at the castle for a moment, and flashed his Sharingan. Each block, each stone, was laced with magic, some still and deep, others light and playful, and still others that gave the impression of a million different moods and power.

The chattering intensified, and exclamations of shock were heard. Harry opted instead to examine the castle in greater detail with his Mangekyo Sharingan. As they approached the entrance, Harry deactivated his eyes, and his gaze fell on a fellow first year who was being attacked by a tentacle.

"Heads down!" Hagrid shouted over the din, but he was the only one who really had to duck as the boats glided into a long underground tunnel. The boats stopped next to what seemed to be an underground harbor, and with each flash of the Sharingan, Harry could see the pebbles littering the ground, the bits of ivy in Hagrid's hair, and the twisting magic that surrounded each of his classmates. A middle-aged woman, or so it seemed, stood at a doorway, clearly another Professor.

While Flitwick's magic was substantially more than his, Harry was proud to notice that the divide between the woman's magic and his was not wide, and would be easily bridged. The discrepancy between the amount of magic he had compared to hie fellow first years seemed to be on the same order of magnitude as the difference between his and Flitwick's. He had no doubt that Flitwick was not the strongest teacher in the school.

The professor introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, their Transfiguration teacher, then began talking at length about the different houses, giving the most generic information she could, in such a way that a brochure would have laughed. Harry noticed a slight expression of loathing when she said Slytherin, though no one without a Sharingan could have.

This was in contrast to the Malfoy boy, who began bragging about how he was going to be put into Slytherin immediately after McGonagall was out of earshot. Harry listened, but only because he couldn't think of anything better to do, and the proclamations of arrogance did seem a bit more intelligent than the wrestling of trolls, which Ron Weasley had decided would be the Sorting Test.

They were called into the room, and they stood in a line as a dirty, disgusting hat of all things sang a song. Harry's Mangekyo Sharingan spun wildly as he systematically judged each student and teacher's response to different statements the hat made about houses.

He looked at Dumbledore and blanched. The man had more magic than every other person in the room combined. Harry decided that he would be the one that he'd aim to surpass.

"Granger, Hermione!"

The bushy haired girl was seated under the Sorting hat for nearly five minutes, the longest time yet. Harry stared impassively as the hat finally shouted out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Hermione looked inordinately pleased with herself. Harry continued to examine the many contours of the magic in the room, and how certain magical presences seemed to bleed into each other. He could feel the stare of a man dressed completely in black on him. He wondered if the professor taught curses or malicious spells.

"Greengrass, Daphne!" Harry stared at the girl, who was blond, and had a substantial amount of magic in comparison to the other First Years in the room. After a minute of consideration, the Hat shouted, "SLYTHERIN!" Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

Neville, the clumsy boy with the toad, was seated even longer under the Sorting hat than Hermione. When it finally called, "GRYFFINDOR", Harry noticed that McGonagall seemed to be very happy. Dumbledore beamed the entire time.

A pair of twins were called, another girl, then, at long last, "Potter, Harry!"

The room fell silent. It seemed to be a recapitulation of the Leaky Cauldron. Harry's eyes flashed through the crowd, but he didn't dare activate his eyes.

He sat on the stool, and the hat slipped over his eyes, and he saw nothing but darkness.

_What do we have here? A child who has the greater eyes of Misery?_

_What are you doing in my head? Get out!_

_Calm yourself, Harry Potter. I am here to sort you._

_Can you see my memories?_

_Yes, every one of them_.

Harry sucked in a breath. _Will this go back to any of the teachers?_

_No, my charms make it impossible for me to be influenced, or mined for information by anyone, until your death_.

_But charms can be broken, right? How do I know you're not lying?_

_I can swear it to you, on the magic that made me._

_Sure, do it._

_Ahh, yes, not very trusting, are you? Very well. I swear on my magic that I am incapable of lying. _A blue light shone in front of Harry's eyes for a moment.

_You know about the Mangekyo Sharingan. Tell me, does anyone else carry my curse?_

_You are wise, Harry Potter, to know that those eyes are a curse. Through my time sorting children, only eighteen have had the potential to possess the Eyes of Misery. Only eight have come to me with an active Sharingan eye. Of those, only two had more than a single tomoe in each eye._

_Yet I have the Mangekyo..._

_Yes, you have suffered more than most, less than some, and all too much for someone your age. The eyes are terrible things, are they not? To see the flaws, imperfections, and shortcomings in every wise man, in every beautiful woman, in every gentle soul?_

_It is a unique burden._

_A burden it is indeed. Promise an old hat that you'll go blind in peace._

_What do you mean, go blind?_

_Don't you know? Have you not felt your eyes bleeding?_

_How did you know? Aside from my memories, I mean._

_I have seen many things in my day. A friend of the man who created me possessed the Eyes of Misery for many years, when he decided that it was simply not enough. So one day, when the woman he loved the most, a kind, caring woman, went out to collect herbs to grow, he followed her and took his sword to her, knowing that he'd have the right to the Kaleidoscope. His was different from yours._

_But, blindness?_

_In order of difficulty, the great and terrible powers of the Mangekyo Sharingan are Kamui, Tsukuyomi, Amaterasu, Susano'o and Izanagi._

_What are the last-_

_I will explain it to you, young warrior. Kamui breaks space-time and puts a strain on your left eye. Tsukuyomi creates an illusion so powerful that it can easily infiltrate most minds, and damages your left eye slightly. The ever-burning black flames of Amaterasu are released by means of your right eye, and damages it severely. The sword and shield of Susano'o, able to defend you from nearly every spell, and put others into eternal sleep, damages both eyes far more severely than Amaterasu. The usage of Izanagi will force you to sacrifice either of your eyes for a period of invulenerability._

Harry narrowed his eyes. _But how long will it be until I go blind?_

_It can be many years, if you use your power sparingly. Your eyes will slowly repair itself after a while of non-usage. But continual usage over a short period of time will damage them to such a degree that the simple use of your Mangekyo will cause blindness._

_Will the use of the Mangekyo, without any of the Great Powers, cause blindness?_

_No._

_How can I stop myself from going blind?_

The hat was silent for a moment. "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry nodded once within the hat, and thanked it, then pulled it off. The cheering had begun once the hat had shouted, and the Weasley twins were rancorously shouting "We've got Potter!" over and over again.

Harry resolved to use Kamui sparingly, Tsukuyomi and Amaterasu under extreme circumstances, and Susano'o under the threat of death. He wondered if he could ever find a justification for using Izanagi, let alone using it twice.

"Weasley, Ron!"

The hat barely touched the boy's head when it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

After an Italian-looking girl was sorted, Dumbledore spoke for several moments about the Forbidden Forest, and told the captive audience not to wander into the abandoned third-floor corridor on the pain of death, and the Welcoming Feast began.

**Mangekyo**

Harry woke early the next morning, and walked through the halls with a cap over his eyes to not have his eyes spotted by talking portraits and ghosts. He had memorized the route to the Entrance Hall from the Gryffindor common room with the use of his eyes, and decided that he'd catalogue every corridor and room he could. He spent the next two hours walking through the second, third, and fourth floor of the castle slowly.

The castle was huge. Hogwarts used only the North Wing for academic purposes, abandoning the East, West and South wings to dust and grime. Harry glanced at his battered watch once in a while, but his perception of time was much more keen than most people much older than he. He filed away the location of several rooms for further consideration - an armory full of hundreds of magical weapons that hadn't felt a strong breeze in centuries, a swimming pool with runes inscribed all over the edge and bottom. There was a room full of books on Conjuration, stacked haphazardly all over the floor. But for every useful room, there were scores of rooms full of broken desks, empty bookshelves, and belligerent magical dragonflies the size of Harry's arm, which attacked him.

Harry walked into one room that had a huge nest of them before he snapped, took out his wand, and attempted to mimic the effects of Amaterasu with his wand. He ended up with a spell that allowed his wand to belch fire endlessly, as long as he fed more and more magic to it. He torched up the creatures, which flew around, burning. Harry ended up stomping out more than one fire before all the creatures had died.

He headed to the Great Hall after that, and stared impassively at the breakfast, laid out on four tables, and the single person in the room.

Hermione Granger. Harry sighed, and sat down two seats to the left of her, and began eating breakfast slowly. After a minute, she squeaked out a quick, "Hello Harry!"

"Hn." Then he remembered his manners. "Hello, Hermione."

"May I sit next to you?"

"I don't mind." In truth, he did. But he wasn't going to let her know that. He strove to be polite to even his Aunt and Uncle, and he would not abandon his habits for an eleven year old girl he didn't know.

"Do you know what class we're going to have first?"

"Herbology on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday mornings. Charms on Tuesday mornings. Transfiguration on Tuesday afternoons. Astronomy on Wednesdays at midnight. History of magic on Monday afternoons. Defense Against the Dark Arts on Wednesday afternoons. Potions on Friday mornings and afternoons, with no lunch, but it starts an hour later and ends an hour earlier."

"Oh, so we'll be having Charms and Transfiguration today! I can't wait! I've read through both the textbooks, and Charms sounds easier than Transfiguration, but Transfiguration is so much more versatile."

Harry didn't want to talk with the girl, but he hated academic inaccuracy. "That's not entirely true. Charms may be easier in the beginning compared to Transfiguration, unless you have a seriously powerful imagination, but the difficulty of Transfiguration levels out when you reach the hard limits of the craft, while Charms continually gets more and more difficult. You can compare them as exponential and linear operations. While Transfiguration may be more difficult in the beginning, the growth in difficulty is static, unlike the growth of Charms, which is dynamic."

"Fifteen points to Gryffindor for a well reasoned explanation!" cried a beaming Flitwick, who had walked into the room just as Hermione decided that Transfiguration was more versatile.

Harry gave a very convincing fake smile at Flitwick, and thanked him. "Oh no, there's no need to thank me, my boy! I love a good academic discussion as much as any Ravenclaw! I thought that I would certainly have you in my house, but both Albus and the Sorting Hat disagreed." Flitwick's grin slipped for a moment, then it returned at full force. "I look forward to seeing you in class this morning!"

Hermione stared at Harry with stars in her eyes.

Harry's politeness slipped for a moment, and a grunt slipped out. "Hn."

**Mangekyo**

Flitwick started the class with roll call, and smiled at Harry when he called his name. Harry nodded politely at the wizard. He began talking at length about Charms from his personal experience, which Harry thought was much more useful than any of the books he'd technically stolen with his eyes, or the book he'd purchased. He watched with his Mangekyo Sharingan as Flitwick demonstrated several charms, and after he asked to be excused to use a bathroom, found that he had the ability to cast those charms with ease. He smiled.

Halfway through the lesson, Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom burst into the room, both of them sopping wet, and nearly in tears, screaming about the resident school Poltergeist, Peeves. He immediately plopped into the seat to the left of Harry (Hermione was on the right side), getting water everywhere.

"Why are you always dripping over me, Weasley?" Harry mumbled, mostly to himself, but Flitwick had stopped lecturing to write on the board, and it was entirely silent. Consequently, the entire room heard him, and chuckles broke out. Ron's face turned as red as his hair, which seemed to be no easy feat, and he stopped moving around.

After Charms ended, Hermione latched herself onto Harry's arm, but quickly let go when he raised an eyebrow at her. They walked to the Great Hall at a relatively slow pace, with Hermione babbling about how amazing Professor Flitwick was, and how much she enjoyed the Charms lesson. Harry privately agreed. Flitwick was a very good teacher, able to galvanize and control a class without seeming strict. He seemed to know every charm in the world, and he taught in such a way that allowed Harry to take comprehensive notes and memorize them with his eyes.

Harry's face remained impassive, but he was secretly estatic. He had discovered that while knowing each charm that Flitwick described, and hundreds of other spells, he was not able to perform a single one of them. But when he saw them in action, he was able to do so easily. Coupled with his memorized understanding, his charms were picture-perfect.

After lunch was done with (an affair full of Hermione's continuous speech, and a Ron who did not realize that he was not welcome), Hermione followed him to the Transfiguration classroom, where a tabby cat was perched on the desk.

Harry frowned. He had seen the tabby cat before. Once when he was five, it had been in the park at Little Whinging. When he was nine, it had been in an alley. Harry wondered if the cat, who could only be Professor McGonagall, knew about his eyes, then decided that it wasn't possibly. While cat eyes could see very well in the dark, they lost the ability to discern color with complete accuracy.

Harry found himself locked into a staring match with it. Both gazes were impassive, but he could feel her giving up. No one had ever been a match for him in a staring contest, but he thought that Professor Dumbledore would possibly be a challenge.

Finally, Ron and Neville burst into the room, ten minutes late. Harry had copied the notes on the board by flashing his Mangekyo when McGonagall wasn't looking at him, and into his notebook. He had stared at the scratching quills and parchment with no small amounts of bemusement, and the few sensible people with pens and lined paper, before deciding that there was something seriously backwards about Hogwarts.

"Thank god she's not here!" Ron exclaimed. He did a little spin in joy.

"Is that so, Mr. Weasley?" McGonagall had shed her cat form, and was glaring at Ron.

Ron gulped and turned around. He glared at Hermione for a moment, for stealing the seat next to Harry, and plopped down next to Neville, jotting notes down furiously, blushing.

McGonagall taught in a somewhat similar manner to Flitwick, but she relied on more theoretical explanations, as opposed to personal anecdote, and awesome displays of technique. Harry was lucky enough to have been flashing his Mangekyo when she turned her desk into a pig, and allowed himself to smile. McGonagall caught the smile, and smiled back, encouragingly. She then looked away in disappointment when his features became blank once again.

When the lesson ended, Harry had managed to teach Neville Longbottom how to turn his match into a needle, after he completed the task in 'record time'.

Harry heard snatches of conversation he disliked very much from most of the people in the hallway as he shook loose Hermione, and therefore had no constant noise in his right ear.

"Look, that's Harry Potter!"

"He's so cold and distant. It's so tragic."

"He's so awesome. He managed to change his match into a needle on his first go. My brother told me."

"He must have had magical training, or he's a genius."

"He's so cute."

Harry's nostrils flared, and he walked a bit faster, a scowl finding its way to his face, despite his best efforts.

"He's finally ditched that Granger girl. I hope he doesn't mind if I approached him."

Harry was currently seated on a windowsill doing his transfiguration essay, when he heard _that_. He sighed, and began working twice as fast, hoping to finish before the girls got the courage to approach someone they didn't know.

"Hey! I'm Susan Bones!" A redheaded girl who was in Hufflepuff, judging by her colors, thrust her undeveloped chest forward, and batted her eyelashes in the most forced fashion Harry had ever seen. And he remembered every single batting pair of eyelashes he'd ever seen.

"Hello." The girl giggled and ran away. Harry quickly added the finishing touches to his essay, and left.

Defense Against the Dark Arts sounded great in theory, but Quirrell was, simply put, a bad teacher. He stuttered (unconvincingly) whether he spoke of vampires, his purported 'great fear', or tickling hexes. Harry felt a strange, prickling sensation in his scar every time the man looked at him, and decided to file that away for consideration before he slept.

It was Friday morning when Harry nearly suffered from cardiac arrest. Everyone in the school was referring to him as the Gryffindor Prince.

"He's so regal and graceful!"

"Do you see the way he glides? It's like he's been trained to duel or something!"

Sadly, both statements came from fifth year Ravenclaws.

He sat, fuming, in Potions class, when the door swung open with a bang, and Professor Snape walked into the room. His cloak billowed behind him, making him look like a cardinal of old. His image of nobility, however, was ruined by the dirty stains on the front of his robes, his oily hair, and his overly large hooked nose that dripped.

He began his class with a roll call, and paused at Harry's name. "Ah, Yes. Harry Potter, our new _celebrity_."

Harry stared at him impassively, and he felt a sort of invading presence emanating from the man. He broke eye contact, and it stopped immediately. Snape grit his teeth, and finished his roll call.

"I see you've gotten rather... _comfortable_ in your current seats. There will be no unnecessary _deep friendships_ or fooling around in my classroom. Granger, switch seats with Greengrass. Crabbe, switch seats with Longbottom. Finnegan, switch seats with Parkinson."

The blond girl with more magic than every other First Year but Harry sat daintily in the seat next to Harry. "You will not slow me down, Potter."

She was curt, and to the point. Harry decided that he liked that, and offered her the same courtesy. "Very well."

"Potter!" Snape called out. "Talking in my class already?"

"I apologize."

"You are here, to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Harry decided that it was a rather impressive speech, and nodded. Hermione nearly stood up, as fire seemed to course through her. She looked completely ready to prove that either she wasn't a dunderhead, or she was a very, very unintelligent one. Harry thought it would be the former.

"Potter!" Snape hissed. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

_Asphodel is generally used in conjunction with wormwood to temper the acidic agent associated with the potion known as the Draught of Living Death, which..._

"A buffer solution that will, when combined with an acidic agent, be used to create the Draught of Living Death."

Snape stared at him, long and hard. "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

_The bezoar is a stone from the stomach of a goat that will cure the majority of poisons in the world. The uses in potionmaking include..._

"The stomach of a goat."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "What is the difference, Potter, between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

_Wolfsbane, used in several highly dangerous potions, is a poison known as Monkshood, and, when processed, Aconite. The uses of Aconite are more diverse than..._

"They are one and the same. If it is processed, it gains a third moniker, Aconite."

Snape exhaled in frustration. "Tell me, Potter, what are the uses of Nitric Acid in potionmaking."

_One must be careful to never utilize nitric acid instead of sulfuric acid in this potion, as nitric acid will melt most cauldrons. Another property of nitric acid is that of magical neutralization, which will make most ingredients less effective..._

"Nitric acid can be used to remove volatility from a system. This decrease can stabilize most failed potions which have reached critical points-"

"Enough! Five points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all!"

Harry nodded, and continued to stare impassively.

The lesson continued, as Snape wrote instructions on how to create a boil-reducing potion on the board. Greengrass looked at Harry in grudging respect.

"I thought you'd be an airhead."

"I see."

She seemed to be miffed by his lack of reaction. "You don't have to be so cold."

For some reason, that maddened Harry a lot more than Snape did. He felt his maturity disappear completely, and he muttered, "you started it", with mild resentment.

She smirked at him, waiting for him to begin talking to her, but it simply didn't happen.

He simply cut everything perfectly, took Snape's abuse without as much as raising an eyebrow, and left at record speeds after Snape dismissed them.

Daphne Greengrass stared at his retreating back. "There is one _massive_ stick up his ass."

**Mangekyo**

Harry was in the armory again, attempting to find a weapon that suited him. He had been in there for nearly an hour, and had a small pile of possible choices.

There was a long, thin rapier which seemed to have a sort of affinity for lightning, shocking the practice dummy that Harry stabbed.

There were a pair of knives that seemed to burn whatever he slashed, and split whatever he stabbed.

There was a rather exotic knife that Harry didn't know the name of that seemed to fit well in his hand.

But they were all dwarfed by a longsword sitting in the corner, gathering dust. Harry was immediately drawn to it. When he put his hand on it, it began to speak.

"_Filthy humansssss. Daring to defile me._"

"_Cool, a talking sword!_"

"_You sssspeak?_"

"_No. I don't understand you at all. I'm making up hisses as I go along, and I'm hoping that you like me._"

"_You're very much like him_."

"_Who?_"

"_Salazar. When he stole me from the palace of Sujin_,_ he was in possession of my greatest enemy, and wielded the pair of us with equal ability_."

"_What sword is your greatest enemy_?" Harry was guessing it was a sword.

"_The Totsuka of Susano'o_."

"_I have the Mangekyo Sharingan_."

The sword hissed. "_You lie. You are but a hatchling_."

Harry wondered how he could prove it to a sword. "What would I do to prove that I possess the greater Eyes of Misery?"

"_I have not seen the flames of the Morning Light in very many years. Will you allow me to-_"

"What qualities are worth the damage to my eyes?"

"_I am able to cut through anything that does not match my power. If you cut but do not kill, my poison will render the victim paralyzed for an hour and dead in the next. I will cut even souls if you have the ability to free them from a body._"

Harry stared impassively, thinking, then decided. "Amaterasu!"

The sword burned and burned, but it did not break. Harry bled from his right eye a substantial amount of black blood.

"_That was truly her Flame. Very well, boy. I will give you the right to wield me. But you must never allow me to leave your presence. And if I leave my sheath, something must pass on_."

"_Do you mean that you must kill something every time you're used?_"

"_Only if I leave my sheath._"

Harry wondered what his Professors would think of him when he walked into class carrying a sword of all things on Monday.


	5. The Eyes of a Three Headed Dog

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter, nor the Mangekyo Sharingan.

Edit Note: Superior Shortness is right. I'm a pretty terrible writer. So I'm listening to his advice

Author's Note: I received my first flame today! Surprisingly, all I am is happy, because this marks a landmark in every fanfiction author's life :D it wasn't an epic flame, just a one-lined "What a bunch of bullshit." Click the reviews from my fic The Immortal Eyes to see it!

**Mangekyo**

Harry was as close to panicking as he had been since he was eight, and a woman saw his eyes, and began screaming about the eyes of the devil. He'd solved that problem by following the hysterical woman while out of her sight and slowly casting illusions on everyone who heard her to believe that she was a vagabond.

Unfortunately, the illusion didn't completely work, because one of the people he'd tried to ensnare was the woman's daughter, who was every bit as religious as she was. So the local populace was treated to a pair of hobos screaming about black haired children with the eyes of the devil. The illusion he cast over himself made him blond, and his eyes blue.

After tailing them for nearly fourteen hours, he managed to get them alone, and remove their memories of the event. Unfortunately, keeping his two-tomoed Sharingan working for so long left him passed out in a back alley, where he was robbed of the thirty two pounds he'd saved up, painstakingly.

That was when he started panicking. But this was much worse than losing several pounds (though he'd spent nearly a year amassing the money). He had a sentient sword that demanded a life every time it was drawn, and spoke like a snake.

Harry wasn't sure what Dark Magic was, entirely, from the books he'd seen and memorized, but he knew that this was probably pushing it, and even with his image as the 'Gryffindor Prince' (he stopped to chortle slightly), Dumbledore would not be very forgiving if he had to kill a student just so he could take a look at it.

Worse yet, the Kusanagi had become dormant. No matter how many times he tried to talk to it, it wouldn't wake up and tell him how to hide it. Harry suspected that it would wake if it were drawn, but he didn't feel like killing anything but the cat that the caretaker kept, Mrs. Something or another, and it was avoiding him like the plague. Whenever he put it down and left the room, the scabbard would appear in his left hand, and he'd be back at square one.

That was why he was about to draw the sword, consequences be damned. There were a group of mice that he had frozen with a charm that he practiced for nearly thirty minutes before he was able to use. He decided that he needed to talk to the sword. He pulled at the hilt.

To his surprise, it didn't budge. _So it's just sleeping? But doesn't it want to kill those mice?_ The sword suddenly slid out of its scabbard. Harry looked at it for a moment, then grimaced, and beheaded a mouse.

"_How can I hide you_?"

"_You can not._"

"_How am I going to explain this_?"

"_Just tell them you have a new sword._"

Harry looked at it, mildly confused. "_But they're going to try to draw you, and then you'll have to kill something. I can't just kill something every time someone wants to see you_."

"_Yes you can. But that won't matter, because I won't be drawn unless it's within your desire to kill something_."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "_But I'm going to be the only person in the world with a sword of all things._"

"_What are you talking about, everyone carries... do people not carry swords any longer?_"

"_No, the only weapon of a wizard is a wand now. Or I'm so I'm told_."

"_A wand_? _What type of backwards society uses wandssssss_-"

"_Muggles have grown out of carry weapons, and a wand is very easy to hide compared to a battleaxe, for example_-"

The sword hissed incoherently. Harry wondered idly if it was because he had compared it to a battleaxe. "_Very well, I will refuse to be drawn unless you have a very specific target to kill in mind. But I will not disguise myself. This is the School, is it not? Isn't there a rule that allows children to their family heirlooms?_"

"_Right, I'll check_." Harry thought for a moment.

_Hogwarts Code 728, Year 1848 revision. Students will have the right to any and all heirlooms that are not for the express purpose of harming fellow students. This includes all Class A and Class B dark objects._

"_There will be fallout because of this, I'm sure of it_", Harry hissed at the sword, but it had already gone back to sleep.

**Mangekyo**

"Is that a sword?"

"Oh my god, he's holding a sword. Is he off to fight a dark wizard?"

"He's going to rescue an elven princess from the clutches of a dragon!"

Harry snorted at the preposterousness of it all. He was walking across the grounds with the scabbard in his left hand, at a speed that could only be considered casual in the loosest definition of the word.

"Mr. Potter, what are you doing with a _sword_ of all things?" McGonagall screeched.

"Family heirloom, Code 728. I checked. I found it in a room, and when it realized I was a Potter, it wouldn't leave me alone. I cannot be physically apart from it", Harry said quickly, putting his most annoyed face on. "I'm off to see Professor Dumbledore, as I have no idea what to do with this, or how to use it, for that matter."

"Go ahead, Mr. Potter, go ahead. The password is Sherbet Lemon. I'm sure you know the location of his office."

The stone gargoyle, after all, was nearly impossible to miss. Nearly every student in the school travelled through the Headmaster's corridor on a daily basis, to utilize the most well known shortcut in the school, a magical slide that took you from _upwards_ from the second floor to the sixth, allowing most students to bypass the treacherous stairs.

Harry swept around a final corner, glided up to the great stone guardian, and enunciated, "Sherbet Lemon" with the most clarity he could muster, and it moved out of the way. He walked up the stairs to the Headmaster's tower, and decided not to go through with it.

"Hello, Harry", came the ever-genial voice of the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Harry resignedly walked into the office. "Professor Dumbledore. I found what I believe to be a family heirloom in the castle armory, and it refuses to leave me alone. I'm not sure I want it to, though."

"Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"No thank you sir."

Dumbledore looked to be in deep thought for a moment, then nodded. "I don't recall a rule that prohibits the carrying of swords, but I am admittedly quite interested in what you mean when you say that it refuses to leave you alone."

"It follows me wherever I go. When I try to walk out of a room without, my left hand unwittingly curls around the scabbard."

"I see. Have you drawn the sword?"

"No, I haven't. It refuses to be drawn for some reason. I suspect I must prove myself to it, or be in grave danger, or use my magic in a way that I have not been taught, in order to draw it."

Dumbledore nodded, stroking his beard. "Do you believe that it may be a Dark object, Harry?"

"No, Professor. I don't think so. It hasn't tried to harm anyone yet, and I did run through Hogwarts with it."

"I take it you understand now the risk that it could have posed if it were poisonous, or worse?"

"I'm sorry Professor. I'll attempt to keep my wanderings to a minimum from now on."

"Very well, my boy. Is there anything else you would like to tell me?" He stared directly into Harry's eyes, and Harry felt the same invasive presence in his mind.

"Yes, sir. I love Professor Flitwick's class!" It wasn't a lie. Harry did like the class very much. He smiled, and left as quickly as he could.

The old professor's mind was flooded with images of Flitwick teaching for half a second, and strangely, Professor Quirrell in Diagon Alley. "You're not quite what I expected, Harry."

**Mangekyo**

"Where'd you get the sword, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, I killed a dragon for it. It was big, and it had fire", Harry deadpanned.

"Really? That's so-"

"No, I found it in the castle armory. It's possibly connected to the Potter family, as it sought me out."

Harry and Hermione were sitting across from each other, eating breakfast. Harry was eating a lot, very quickly, as he had skipped dinner in order to practice with a sword that had roughly the same proportions as his Kusanagi in the armory. The memorized pages and diagrams did him no good, it seemed. He simply didn't know how to use the weapon, no matter how much he tried.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"What do you like in a girl?"

Harry stared for a moment. No one had heard Hermione, so he decided to humor her with a response. "Someone who understands."

"What do you mean by that?"

Harry's eyes narrowed for a moment, and he began eating again. "Someone who knows what misery is."

Hermione wisely decided not to ask any more questions, and didn't even follow Harry as he left for Herbology.

**Mangekyo**

"You should add the powered horn when it starts to smoke slightly, and not before."

"I don't see where it says that on the-"

"Do it." Daphne stared at Harry's impassive expression. Harry had never been wrong before when it came to potions. She knew she was rather adept, barely ever forgetting any ingredients, and possessing a sixth sense of sorts when it came to brewing, but Harry was, well, Harry Potter. He met every expectations people seemed to have of him. He was like a knight of old, only less chivalrous and more cold, and respectful to a fault.

"Why do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Distance yourself from everybody? Granger would do anything for you to return a sliver of her affections. As much as I am ashamed to admit it, potions would be a much brighter class for me if you'd talk a little more."

"I do not believe that I'm distant." That was a lie. Harry knew he was more than distant.

"What makes you different from the rest of us?" Daphne continued, as if she had not heard him. "You may have defeated the Dark Lord due to circumstances beyond any reasonable explanation, but you don't seem to be truly beyond us. I mean, I know you're more than three-quarters genius, but-"

"Don't wrack your brain, Greengrass." Harry's lips quirked for a moment.

"Shut it, Potter", she glared.

**Mangekyo**

"What do you mean by misery, Harry?" Hermione had finally plucked up the courage to ask Harry the question she had wanted to for nearly a week. It was a Sunday, which meant Harry was writing essays for his classes, and practicing magic in an unused classroom on the third floor. More than four people had followed him there, but they quickly left (with the exception of Hermione), when they realized that he was simply working.

"I'm not sure if misery means anything unless you've experienced it."

**Mangekyo**

"I know what you are, Harry."

"Say it!"

"You're a... pretentious little prick attempting to come off as all broody, so you can gather a base of sympathetic girls, whom you will use as canon fodder against dark wizards."

"No, Daphne."

**Mangekyo**

"Misery is the human experience, Harry, according to the various dictionaries I've consulted. It means great unhappiness in all cases. We've all been greatly unhappy at some point in our lives."

"Fair enough."

"So, are you going to start dating now?" Hermione asked hopefully.

Harry narrowed his eyes.

**Mangekyo**

"You and me, we should start a firm. We can call it Hidden Village Inc, and you can sit at your office every day, and assign us missions from people who want dark wizards gone from their countries for a fee."

"What purpose would it serve, Daphne?"

"I'm not sure, but I'm sure that we can develop branches of magic that people have never heard of before, and attract families of people who specialize to such a degree that, when paired with each other, they will have the ability to carry out their missions in such a professional and unpredictable manner that we'd get hired by everyone. It might become so successful that other people might copy us, and create their own organizations. Then we can name ourselves after an element, and base our doctrine off of it. Something like the Resolve of Water, or something that sounds so absolutely cool that our constituents could talk about it on the battlefield without seeming like losers."

"I still fail to see what purpose it would serve."

"Well, it's creative, I think."

"Yes, I would possibly read a story about this Hidden Village Inc. You might want to aim the knife at the pods and not at my face."

**Mangekyo**

"So, you're Harry Potter?"

A _seventh_ year, who looked familiar for no good reason at all, was speaking to him. Harry wondered if his Mangekyo had, in passing, picked her off as one of his stalkers.

"No. I'm impersonating him."

"Oh, har har. Where did you get that sword?"

"It is generally considered polite to introduce yourself before you interrogate people."

"I'm Tonks."

Harry didn't speak for several minutes. "Why are you so tense?"

"There's just something that sets me off. I can't really put my finger on it."

"Why would you need to put your finger on it?"

Tonks stared at him, nonplussed.

"I think it is safe to say that this conversation has been a failure, and that you should leave me to my transfiguration essay supplement."

"Why would McGonagall give a First Year a supplement," Tonks glanced at the paper, "about personal conjecture in regards to breaking Gamp's Five Laws of Elemental Transfiguration?"

"She says she values my opinion."

"B-but why doesn't she value..."

"I don't know."

"You're such a cold fish, Harry. I think you need a hug." Tonks reached around him to discover that he was suddenly seated further from her than she thought. Two seats further. "Wh-what?"

"Spare me."

"W-wotcher." Tonks walked out of the room slowly, but as she turned around to look at him one more time, she slammed into the door.

"That's troublesome." Somewhere over the hills and far away, a pineapple sneezed. It turned out to be a mildly sentient magical variety, but the mechanical harvesters that were part of the Dole Fruit company did not care much, and harvested it anyway.

**Mangekyo**

"Harry, I feel that I've gotten to know you really well in the past three weeks. I really want to know what's wrong, and why you're so aloof to everyone. Talking about it helps, I swear! I even wrote mum, and had her send me some psychology books."

Harry narrowed his eyes. Hermione, who had long ago recognized Harry's minute facial expression changes, immediately stopped.

They were fascinating. The narrowing of the eyes meant that he was angry. The slight twitch of his lips meant he was amused. The perfectly impassive look meant he was mildly exasperated, or surprised. The quick double-blink meant that he was very angry, and he would be leaving, or you would be leaving, _in a body bag_. And then, when he was apocalyptically angry, as he was when Susan Bones managed to spill ink all over him, and ran her hands all over him to 'clean it off', he tightened his grip on his sword.

"I'm sorry Harry. M-may I?" Harry nodded absentmindedly, not realizing that Hermione was asking his permission to hug him, rather than continue her monologue.

His eyes registered actual shock as she threw her arms around him. He blinked twice, and was gone. Hermione began to weep.

**Mangekyo**

"Harry, can I study with you?"

"Yes."

"Really? I can really study with you?"

"Would you like me to tell you otherwise?"

"Not at all. Where do you study?"

"In the abandoned classroom next to the portrait of the three dancing otters on the third floor. I study before dinner, after dinner, and the majority of the day on Sundays. I spend my Saturdays in the castle armory, or on the outskirts of the Forest."

"Wow, that's the first time you've ever volunteered information. Do it more often, and you might be able to convince me that you're interested in little old Daphne." She winked, and smirked.

Harry felt his face going red in embarrassment. He gripped his sword tightly.

_Score! _Daphne's mind screamed.

_I just lost ou- the game_. Harry's mind bit out, violently.

**Mangekyo**

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your little girlfriend, Harry?" Hermione's voice had become more dangerous that Harry had ever heard it.

"I wouldn't describe her as such."

"Neither would I. Who would want to go out with a loser like Harry?"

"We're eleven."

"So when can I expect a date from you, Harry?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, as did Hermione.

**Mangekyo**

"Do you notice something odd about Quirrell?"

"Yes, the stutter is definitely fake." Daphne was rather loud about it, and Snape looked up sharply. He filed it away for further consideration, deciding that Dumbledore would probably want to know that one of his students had discovered something about Quirrell.

"Yes, and the smell coming from his turban, it's not actually garlic. I broke a capsule of Magical Index Indicator when I passed him in the hall while trying to find-"

"Wow, I wasn't aware that the Gryffindor Prince could break anything with those delicate, majestic, graceful hands of-" Her voice petered off as she noticed Harry's narrowed eyes.

"And the indicator went haywire. The magic saturation around the man is seventy eight percent or more. He's probably doing some power boosting rituals or something. The type that requires sacrifices."

Snape's eyes widened. He knew that there was an upside to allowing Lily's son conversation in his dungeon.

**Mangekyo**

"Harry, I want to know what's behind that door."

"Dumbledore said very clearly that it was very dangerous. No one but the Weasley twins have been past it, and they're so traumatized they're refusing to talk about it."

"I doubt that's the reason they're refusing to talk about it."

"Hermione, Dumbledore can go and-"

"Daphne!" Harry said sharply.

"Alright, Dumbledore doesn't always know what he's talking about, according to my father."

"Easy for you to say, _Slytherin_."

"Do you want to fight?"

"Girls. Would you please? These elementary rune matrices are giving me a headache. You're exacerbating it."

"What are you doing learning _runes_ of all things?"

"Can you teach me?"

"I'm learning runes to understand the Hogwarts Wards, Daphne. I'm unable to teach, as everything I know amounts to a thirty minute lecture I stood outside a door for, and practice problems from a discarded Introduction to Runic Sigils book that someone forgetful must have lost a century ago."

"But you will teach _Hermione_, won't you, Harry? Why can't you teach me?" Daphne turned watery doe eyes towards him, and looked up at him. "Awh, you're getting flustered, Harry."

Harry blinked twice, and stared at his rune matrix with renewed vigour.

**Mangekyo**

"Harry, I'm your friend. You know that. Shutting your friends out is not healthy, no matter what you've been told."

"Stir counterclockwise eight times. And clockwise once. Repeat it four times."

Snape looked at Harry with a small amount of worry for a moment, but it was only because he'd instructed the class to stir counterclockwise nine times. Unsurprisingly, Harry and Daphne's potion was better than everyone else's.

**Mangekyo**

"Whatever happens, if I say run, you are to go, immediately. Both of you." Harry, Hermione and Daphne were standing in front of the forbidden door. It was nine o'clock, and most of the castle's inhabitants were in the library or in their common room.

"Alohamora." Harry whispered softly, and the door's lock clicked open. The three of them slipped in, and closed the door behind them.

"This doesn't seem so..." Daphne's voice trailed off when she realized that there was a huge Cerberus standing no more than ten meters away from them.

"Open the door, Hermione."

"Alohamora! Alohamora! Alohamora! It's jammed, Harry! We're going to die in here!" Hermione was hysterical already. Daphne was no better, she was against the door, shaking, as the Cerberus drew closer.

Harry stared at the three-headed dog, and at the shaking girls. Then he realized, all of a sudden, that they had replaced Ovid. They were a constant part of his life, once unwelcome, but now he didn't know what he would do if they simply left.

Despite his best efforts, they had become his friends. He gritted his teeth.

"Whatever you see me do in here, no one, and I repeat, NO ONE, is to know. Not Dumbledore, not the weird Tonks girl that you two like to brag to, not McGonagall. NO ONE."

The Cerberus was four meters away now.

Hermione nodded, and Daphne whimpered out a "yes".

"Mangekyo Sharingan", he whispered.

Hermione's eyes widened as Harry's eyes changed from the beautiful shade of green to red, with a spinning design within them. "These, Hermione, are the eyes of Misery, a curse that I must bear due to mere happenstance. A fate and a power no man should ever have to know."

With that, Harry drew the Kusanagi, fully prepared to kill the cerberus.

Harry ran forwards, ducking a pair of snapping jaws, and slashed out. The Kusanagi was much more natural than the practice sword he'd used in the armory. While the Kusanagi cut through the Cerberus with around as much difficulty as it would have if it were cutting grass, Harry knew, even with his Mangekyo Sharigan, he could not come close enough to strike a killing blow. He was also unsure what a killing blow was. If he wanted to go the route of the heads, he might have to destroy all three, assuming they didn't regenerate like the many headed hydra did.

He didn't even know where the heart was, and the Cerberus healed at extreme speeds, and didn't seem to be affected by the poison that the Kusanagi claimed to have been coated in.

Harry ducked an errant paw, and the middle head, as he barrelled haphazardly towards the beast. He jumped through the air, and stabbed the Cerberus in the middle of what could only be its chest, and quickly rolled out of the way. He was still a moment too slow. The huge paw that he'd avoided twice managed to rip into his left arm, despite the fact that he parried it with his scabbard.

Daphne whimpered, and Hermione screamed as Harry landed next to them, face first, looking bruised and beaten, his arm bleeding profusely. "I'm going to try again, before I resort to drastic measures."

Hermione nearly cried as Harry jumped to his feet and ducked around another snap of the Cerberus's jaws. Harry dodged another snap like a bullfighter, then lopped off the top of the left head. Gray brain matter sprayed everywhere, and the Cerberus shook itself in a frenzy, throwing Harry back. Harry flew backwards, his sword out of his grip, and slammed against the wall next to Daphne.

She whimpered again. "Okay. I'm going to do it now. Don't freak out if you see me bleeding from the eyes. It's what happens. Use _Locomotor_ to bring me back to the room if I pass out."

Harry's eyes locked onto the jammed door, his Mangekyo Sharingan spinning wildly. "Amaterasu!"

A slick trail of black flames shot forward from Harry's eyes, burning a hole into the door, and slowly spreading until it began to burn the stone floors and walls. Harry's right eye was leaking blood, and Harry had retrieved Kusanagi with the summoning feature. As the door burned, he parried strikes from the two-headed Cerberus, and put out any flames that got too close to Hermione and Daphne.

When the hole was wide enough, Harry put out all the flames, and helped the two girls through the hole, parrying strikes when he could, and getting bitten several more times when he couldn't. They half walked, half crawled, back into the study room.

Harry coughed up a huge gunk of blood. "Th-that could have gone a little better."

"What's with your eyes?"

"What was that black flame?"

Harry sighed, and pointed his wand at his clothing. "Scourgify." Harry then conjured a mirror, and pointed his wand everywhere that was slightly dirty. "Tergio. Tergio. Tergio." After several minutes, he did the same for Hermione and Daphne.

"Let me tell you about the Eyes of Misery..."

**Mangekyo**

"The eyes of Misery, or the Sharingan, is a blood related manifestation of magic. When it is active, I can see many things that a normal eye could not. First of all, I perceive everything within the line of my vision at once. So if there was a single moving object, I would see it the same way as I would see a thousand. Secondly, I remember everything I see when I use it. It is burned into my neural pathways for all of eternity, and no matter how much I try to forget, I will not be able to, without the help of a very powerful memory charm. Thirdly, I can see all magic, its intensities, and its alignment. Finally, I perceive time at a slower rate than everyone else. Every minute in real time is sixteen minutes with the Mangekyo Sharingan active. Unfortunately, I don't exactly move at sixteen times the speed of time. That would have helped immensely against the Cerberus."

"My failures aside, the reason I am accused of moving gracefully or smoothly is because I've memorized every pattern of motion that I've ever had, and the inevitable muscle memory allows me to walk more gracefully with a broken leg than a ballerina in her prime. But this isn't all I can do. What I had described were the effects of the Sharingan. What I possess is the Mangekyo Sharingan, which the Sorting Hat refers to as the Eyes of the Kaleidoscope."

"The Kaleidoscope is an advanced form of the Sharingan which requires you to see the death of your most dear friend. When I was ten, I had a snake named Ovid, which my aunt stabbed with a kitchen knife. It was the day I got my Hogwarts letter. The Kaleidoscope of Misery allows me to break into people's minds, form flames that burn for seven days and nights unless I put it out, and bend space-time to teleport, and seal things away in other dimensions."

"When I use the Mangekyo Sharingan... I see all the suffering that the world has seen. I know everyone's pain, and it's imprinted upon my mind in a red haze. I... I see the worry that you had for me, and... I will treasure it forever."

This time, Harry let go of his sword, and hugged Hermione and Daphne back. They cried together.

**Mangekyo**

Four days after the episode with the recently two-headed Cerberus, Dumbledore called Harry into his office.

"You are probably very well acquainted with Hogwart's gossip network at this point, Mr. Potter, and have discovered that the large Cerberus on the third floor is currently missing a vital body part. The interesting thing is that it seemed to be a victim of various artful slashes with the help of a sword."

Harry frowned. "Why was there a Cerberus there to begin with?"

"That is unimportant, Mr. Potter. Have you made any progress in drawing your sword?"

Harry looked into Dumbledore's eyes and conveyed all the frustration he had when he couldn't draw the sword the first time. "I wish I could have, Professor. Would you excuse me, sir? I promised to meet my friends around half an hour ago, and they're probably worried."

"Of course, my dear boy."

Dumbledore stared at Harry's retreating back, wondering when he had developed friendships. From what he had heard, he was very civil to everyone, and immeasurably cold, attentive to teachers, but never friendly to anyone but Flitwick. Worse yet, when he used Legilimency to read Harry's surface thoughts, he'd get several seconds worth of information about a topic, playing on a loop, a sign of a highly organized mind. He sighed, and popped a lemon drop into his mouth.

**Mangekyo**

"Daphne, the beans should be put in the cauldron in even halves, as opposed to wholes. Then we can cut down the process by three minutes on each step, and some of the expected error."

Snape was impressed. Potter had exceeded his expectations very thoroughly, and he found himself taking note of the potion tips he gave Greengrass as she produced the potion. While Harry rarely did anything but the most delicate of steps, his finesse was reminiscent of, well, himself. He noticed that Harry was a lot more relaxed around Greengrass than he was before, and wondered if it had anything to do with the incident with the Cerberus that Dumbledore refused to give him more information about.

**Mangekyo**

Another two weeks had passed when Halloween came. They had worked on Levitation charms in Flitwick's class, and he had awarded Gryffindor forty points when Harry and Hermione levitated several feathers at once, and had them attack one another, sending bits of feather everywhere.

Hermione went off to the bathroom after the lesson, and Harry went off to find Daphne. Afterwards, the three of them went off to the feast, when Hermione suddenly blushed. "Harry, I left a textbook in the ba- bathroom."

"Why were you reading a textbook in the-"

Hermione squeaked and rushed out of the room.

"Weird", exclaimed Ron Weasley. Harry's face schooled itself into a most impressive impassivity.

Then the double doors burst open and Quirrell surged into the room, throwing himself onto the floor several meters away from the High Table, where all the teachers were seated. "Troll! In the dungeons! Thought you should know." He passed out most unconvincingly.

Harry locked eyes with Daphne in the din that followed, and flashed his Mangekyo Sharingan, shooting a message to her with his eyes. _Hermione's in the bathroom. I'm going to go find her and bring her to the Tower, and when this mess blows over, we'll go to the room._

Daphne nodded once, and followed the crowd of Slytherin students who were following their prefect back to their Common Room.

Harry rushed through the door and to the bathroom that Hermione frequented the most often - the huge third floor Charms bathroom, and was assaulted by the stink of a full grown troll. _Oh. Gods, no._ Harry heard shattering noises and screams from within the bathroom. He opened the door, expecting the worse, and froze at the sight in front of him.

Hermione was clutching onto her wand in her right hand, and a Playwitch subscription that featured candid shots of Harry Potter at Hogwarts in her left. Harry stared as she levitated several toilets and sinks, and they danced around the troll, rushing at it from several directions. Somehow, the troll managed to hit most of them out of the air. A particularly sharp shard of porcelain landed next to Harry, and he grinned.

He concentrated the majority of his magic into the next levitation charm, and threw all of his intent into speeding it beyond any recognition. The porcelain shard righted itself, pointing at the troll, and shot off at the troll. A huge _crack_ was heard as it broke the sound barrier, burying itself in the back of the troll's neck.

"What's _that_, Hermione?"

Harry pointed at the Playwitch with pictures of him raising his hand, pictures of him stirring a cauldron, a very rare picture of him perched over a desk, grinning, and another one of him stretching.

Hermione's only response was to squeak again, and hold the Playwitch against herself as if it would disappear.


	6. The Eyes of a Speeding Broom

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter, nor the Mangekyo Sharingan.

Author's Note: Fifty reviews, and some fanart! Shorter chapter, since I just took my AP Euro exam. I had my APUSH exam yesterday, and I had to write three essays. The document based thing was on the evolution of feminism in America in the mid 20th century. I also had three essays for the Euro exam. Guess what the document based essay was about? I have nothing about feminism, and I have a story (Diamond in Dystopia) in which it will feature greatly. But writing for a total of four hours in a cramped gym about masculine heteronormativity is very annoying if your name isn't Enloe. Unfortunately, the Wizard of the Kaleidoscope's Christmas scene will be delayed for tomorrow. After I take my third history exam this week, this time on Nixon's politics. -glares hole into wall-

**Mangekyo**

"We missed Dumbledore by a hair, Hermione. I think we just managed to turn the corner on time. If you're going to read... seedy publications, would you please do so in the privacy of your dorm?"

"Harry!" Hermione replied, scandalized.

"Who leaked pictures of me to Playwitch of all publications..."

"I bet it was Susan Bones. I saw her with a camera once."

Harry raised his eyebrows at Daphne. He hadn't every seen anyone but...

_These fantastic photos of Harry Potter are accredited to Pomona Sprout_.

Harry blinked twice, nearly ripped the magazine into pieces, and his Mangekyo Sharingan flared to life in anger. "There is going to be terrible, terrible damage, very, very soon."

**Mangekyo**

"Professor Dumbledore! Greenhouse 2 has caught fire, and we can't put it out. Minerva thinks there might be a rune array in there preventing water from having any effect on it!" Professor Sprout was frantic. It was Monday morning, so her First Year Herbology students were in Greenhouse 3 and her fourth year students were in Greenhouse 1, but Greenhouse 2 had some of the most valuable plants in the world, as well as the entire mandrake crop that the second years grew, and the school sold for profit.

"Has it been burnt down entirely?"

"I don't know, but it's burned for nearly three minutes now, and the flames are getting more and more intense with each passing second."

"We will build a new greenhouse, and import new plants." Dumbledore sighed.

On the grounds next to the Forbidden Forest, a black haired boy holding a huge calligraphy brush, and a thick book entitled _Combat Runes_ cackled madly. It was such a strange, alien sound that a thestral, the messenger of the night which could only be seen by people who had witnessed death first-hand, which a huge half-giant was feeding a slab of meat, nearly choked to death in panic.

**Mangekyo**

Harry hefted the sheathed Kusanagi, and activated his eyes, staring a training dummy down. While the scabbard wasn't even sharp, the Kusanagi generally required a single cut anyway, and practicing single slashes with the sheathed sword was more useful than not doing anything at all.

He was currently frustrated by his lack of progress, and his lack of speed. While his speed was most definitely superhuman, it was not even close to supernatural. His gait may have been beyond graceful, but it was only because he had practiced it a thousand times, moving through each motion under his Sharingan. Yet he could only boast that he moved at the speed of a single tomoe Sharingan, which he had received when he was three years old!

It was unacceptable. The Mangekyo may have moved at roughly sixteen times the speed of human perception, but that was only around four or five times as fast as the Cerberus. It was eight times faster than he was. He had neglected trying to up his speed before, opting to observe the world around him, and now he suffered for it. His shoulders and arms still throbbed from the bites that the three-headed dog had given him, because while both Harry and the beast were immeasurably faster than say, Daphne and Hermione, it was still much faster than he was.

"Mangekyo Sharingan." Harry tried to run through the goop that most people referred to as 'air', but found that he was unable to, no matter how hard he pushed. After nearly an hour of trying, he sank to his knees in a mixture of fatigue and disgust.

**Mangekyo**

"Are you seriously asking us for help?"

"Is he seriously asking us for help?"

"Yes." Harry was tired, and more than a little cross, so he nearly growled when Daphne and Hermione adopted his own impassive face. Daphne could not hold it for more than three seconds before bursting into laughter.

"Okay, so you're able to perceive things sixteen or seventeen times faster than we do. You can move around twice as fast as we do. But the Cerberus was moving around four or five times faster than you were, and the only reason you could hit it was because you were both smaller and more agile." Hermione frowned. She was not used to solving problems that didn't have a guaranteed solution.

"Well, you move by contracting your muscles. So if you can find a way to contract your muscles faster, you might be able to move faster. Maybe your eyes can empower the rest of your body?" Daphne commented.

Harry nodded. "I'm too tired right now, but I'll try it later." True to his word, he passed out after several minutes of talking about classes, snoring softly.

"He's so cute", Hermione commented, running her fingers through his hair. Harry stirred, and she jumped back quickly, not wanting to anger him, if he woke suddenly. Her fears, however, were not justified, as Harry just shifted a bit, and went back to sleeping peacefully.

**Mangekyo**

"I did it." Harry was too tired to be emotionless. It had been ten hours. He had skipped all three meals that day. But for three split seconds, he could move as fast as his Mangekyo, by channeling his magic through his muscles, and forcing them to contract and expand quicker. It was nine on Sunday night, and he was alone in the Armory.

"I did it!" He pumped his fists in the air, but realized that it hurt very, very much to do so, and decided to expend the rest of his energy dragging himself over to an old wooden stool. After he spent four minutes or so sitting on the stool, he found that he could move a little again, and he walked very slowly back to Gryffindor tower. He quickly mumbled the password to the portrait guarding the common room, and stood up straight, despite his discomfort, and schooled his features.

He walked past the eight or nine Seventh years studying for their N.E.W.T exams, and ran right into a group of First Years. The were arrayed in a semicircle around him. The ringleader (no pun intended) seemed to be one Ronald Weasley.

"Hey, Harry. Want to play a game of chess with me?"

"No thank you."

Ron turned red. Harry nearly fell asleep on the spot. "You never want to do anything with real Gryffindors. All we see you talking to is that Slytherin girl Greengrass and the bookworm Granger..."

Harry had toned him off a while ago, to conserve his strength. "Would you let me through please." It wasn't a question, or a request.

"Why should I?"

"Why should you let me go to my dorm?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"You don't belong in Gryffindor. Lions stick together!" The Indian girl had spoken up, hesitantly at first, but when the others seemed to back her statement, she spoke up louder.

Neville Longbottom stood at the edge of Harry's vision, his expression tense, and looking as if he had swallowed a bad egg.

"A lion is an animal of the African plains. They live in nuclear families, and spend their time either sleeping in their dens or raising their cubs. They do not stick _together_."

"McGonagall says that we're all her cubs. And you're not acting like-"

"The virtue of a Gryffindor man or woman is that of equal parts courage and pride. This display is both vulgar, cowardly, and shameful."

"I'm not a coward!" Ron Weasley had taken offense to it, and threw a punch at Harry. Harry could have easily dodged, but he was too tired to move unnecessarily, so he took the punch. A fleshy thunk was heard, and Harry's lip split open, bleeding, but he didn't move an inch.

"I think that is _quite_ enough now, Weasley." Ron roared, and charged at him like a bull, tackling him to the ground, but Harry easily twisted and landed on top of Ron, and got up with his Sharingan-enhanced grace.

"You're a failure, Weasley." Harry walked past the sobbing boy on the ground, who was cradling the wrist he had landed on.

**Mangekyo**

"Quidditch lessons are being held on Saturday. They were supposed to be on the day after we fought the Cerberus, but it was cancelled." Daphne was copying a very long chain of elementary runes when Harry walked into the room, tired, and in a bad mood. He had been nearly bitten by several overzealous plants earlier. Added to that, he had made no progress beyond accelerating himself for three seconds for nearly three days of practice.

"What's Quidditch? I've seen it mentioned in passing, but-"

"I have a book for you, Harry." Hermione held up a book titled _Quidditch Through the Ages_.

"Fascinating", Harry remarked, his face belying none of the fascination he claimed to have been experiencing.

After Hermione and Daphne watched with increasingly jealous expressions as Harry, who didn't have to hid his Mangekyo Sharingan anymore, flipped through the book in less than five minutes, he abruptly spoke up. "I have the potential to be the best seeker in the world."

"That's the most arrogant thing I've ever heard you-"

"No. I perceive the world at slower rates, which means that I beat out reflex every time. I can see magic trails. I could follow the snitch for minutes without concentrating on it, and alerting myself to the other seeker. Better yet, I can win the game in around a minute after the snitch is released."

Daphne just shook her head. "You've ruined the game for me. With four sentences. You're a walking miracle, Harry Potter."

**Mangekyo**

"Stick out your wand arm over the broom, and say 'Up!'" said Madame Hooch, a woman who was relatively nondescript but for her piercing golden eyes.

Harry didn't even have to say the word as the broom jumped into his hand, and rubbed itself against his hand rathe inappropriately. Harry immediately dropped the broom, and blinked twice. He held his hand over it again, and gripped the broom so hard that he nearly snapped it.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle-"

It appeared that neither Neville Longbottom nor Draco Malfoy took this command seriously, as they both shot forward. Harry narrowed his eyes. Neville had no control over what he was doing, and was going to end up crushing someone when he landed. This proved to be nearly true.

Malfoy rocketed towards Neville, with little to no control over his broom, which was spiralling and drifting to the left. Malfoy didn't notice, as he attempted to favor his dominant side, throwing the broom to the right every several seconds as he approached from nearly a hundred meters away from Neville.

Unfortunately for both of them, a school broom is a delicate construct, the majority of them Shooting Stars and Cleansweep Threes, which had been brand new in the... early eighties. They had been bought with the Celebration Funds that the former Minister of Magic, Bagnold, had allocated to Hogwarts for being a 'shining beacon of the light'.

Perhaps if Malfoy had actually been flying on a Shooting Star or a Cleansweep Three, he would have been able to avoid Neville, but he was riding an even older model, the orginal Nimbus, a broom from the Celebration Funds that Hogwarts got after... the First World War.

While the Nimbus Two Thousand, a relatively new broom, had been lauded as the 'safest racing broom in the world', the original Nimbus was known for killing both the riders and the Germans in World War Two when the Valkyrie division flew pseudo-suicidal missions into France before the landings at Normandy.

Neville might have been flying on a Cleansweep Three, but he had no innate ability with brooms, and no training whatsoever.

If Draco had actually been trying to crash into Neville, he would have slipped past him due to the left-drift. But when he banked right in order to avoid Neville, the left bias kicked in.

Harry's Mangekyo had kicked in three seconds before the crash.

Therefore, he watched as Draco's broom approach Neville's broom very slowly. As his eyes widened throughout a very long twenty seconds, Ron Weasley's mouth slowly dropped open. Dean Thomas, a student that Harry had barely seen around the school winced in very, very slow motion. Daphne's right eye opened wide, and her left one narrowed in shock. Hermione threw her hand towards her mouth in the space of twenty seconds.

Neville tried to swing his broom out of the way, with his throat letting loose an ear-splitting scream. Draco managed to mouth "Oh, no." Hooch threw her leg over her broom and kicked off, but it was too late.

The crunch was sickening, as the boys plummeted to the ground from fifty feet in the air.

**Mangekyo**

Hermione had dragged Harry and Daphne to the hospital to visit Neville, who had broken both legs in three places and five places apiece, his right arm in two places, dislocated his left shoulder, sprained his tailbone, and snapped three ribs.

But that wasn't quite as bad as Draco Malfoy. His right arm had hit the ground ahead of his entire body, and had broken into thirty eight largish shards of bone, four of which had exploded out of his arm and embedded themselves into his left thigh. He, too, broke three ribs, but they were his upper ribs, and they had, too, left his body, forcing their way through his flesh.

Lucius Malfoy burst into the hospital wing with Dumbledore in tow, looking absolutely livid. Harry stared at the man impassively as he marched up to Draco's bed and started screaming at Dumbledore about safety, and threatening the older man with funding.

The shouting went on for thirty minutes, with Dumbledore parrying the elder Malfoy's actual points about school safety, and Lucius screaming more and more emotionally until he was spent, and he abruptly left.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir. Who was that?" Harry asked, despite the fact that he knew exactly who it was.

"Alas, Harry. It was a man disenchanted with the direction society is going in, and he blames it for Draco's accident."

Daphne bit her lip and leaned into the crook of Harry's arm to refrain from laughing. Hermione glared at her.


	7. The Eyes of the Man in the Mirror

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter, nor the Mangekyo Sharingan.

The Dreaded Poll: I wanted this to ship H/Hr. But, alas, I'm getting lots of flak from people who want to see H/Hr/Daphne, or just H/Daphne. So vote, I guess, for the status of Harry's relationships. /sigh Please remember that there are also other characters who are going to be girls that are important besides Daphne, and I'm not going to make Harry go out with everyone. He's not a toy to be passed around, nor is he a sleazy harem gatherer. At least not in this story.

Sunday Special: So this and the next chapter are both going to be released.

**Mangekyo**

Of all the seasons, Harry liked winter the least. But of all the months, Harry liked December the most. There was the least misery in December, as grief filled people, evil people, sick people, and even dying people became inexplicably cheerful.

Well, at least it was inexplicable to a younger Harry. When he was four, he would notice that misery increased as the year went by, people went bankrupt, discovered that their lovers were not quite in love with them as they were in love with gratification, or lost themselves to substances that he knew he would never try. After the summer ended, people's moods would plummet. Students would have to go back to school. It was cold and wet.

But despite the inherent nature of December, it was still the most cheerful month in the year. That was because of Christmas. Harry never understood it. His wanderings which led him all over the five mile radius around Privet Drive and Little Whinging, consisted of experiencing people buying things with huge grins. He wondered how several gifts detracted from the misery of the world, but when he was convinced, at the age of five, to donate ten hard-earned pence to a Salvation Army bucket, he did find himself feeling better about helping the nameless and faceless in the world.

"Some things are beyond the understanding of magic..."

"What was that, Harry?"

"Nothing, Daphne, just add the dung beetle eyes to the cauldron."

Snape had taken a peek into Harry's eyes for a moment, and was confused to find that the boy was thinking about people throwing money into buckets.

**Mangekyo**

"I'm going home for Christmas, Harry", Hermione said, almost dejectedly, knowing that Harry did not like his relatives much, and that she and Daphne were all that he had in the world.

"I see." Harry nodded absentmindedly, still thinking about Christmas. While it had never been very special for him, he knew no matter how happy he was to be for Christmas, he would still be disappointed by it.

That was because the happiest day of the year wasn't Christmas. It was Christmas Eve. It was the night when people had the most expectations about how their favorite day in the year would go. It was the day that passed by more quickly than any other, simply waiting for a joy that they were reasonably sure they would obtain. It was the opposite of misery. It was a strange sort of empowerment.

It was the day his Sharingan was the weakest.

"Why can't people be happy, Daphne?"

Daphne gave a little chuckle. "I don't know."

Harry nodded several times, after slight pauses, and then left.

"What's gotten into him?"

"I don't know", Daphne repeated, this time with a slight shade of worry.

**Mangekyo**

Harry was exploring the halls again. He had never actually finished his original exploration. He had only gotten through two floors before he had discovered the abandoned armory and the Kusanagi. He was currently on the other side of the third floor, in the library.

"I'm a bloody idiot." Harry stared at the literal tens of thousands of books. "Looks like I'm going to be a lot smarter before I leave Hogwarts."

**Mangekyo**

Harry had set a limit of twenty books a day at most - he didn't want to spend more than an hour flipping pages and processing information. It was a surefire way to get himself closer to the path of blindness, despite the statement from the hat that claimed that the use of his Mangekyo Sharingan in the original capacity would have no bearing on the state of his health. His eyes, after all, were much more powerful when they were in the Mangekyo state, to such an extent that the normal Sharingan was completely outclassed and had become useless.

This was the reason why his eyes were deactivated, and he was reading a novel in the library. _The Fall of the White Line_ was about the sole member of the fictional White family, an extremely powerful wizard who slowly lost himself to the darkness and was killed by a young girl he had performed a dark ritual on. It was very good, and the various duels were extremely convincing. It was only when he flipped to the last page did he realize it had been written by Lily Potter.

**Mangekyo**

"You have to let me speak to the boy!" The short, relatively ugly man in a mildly worn lime green bowler hat was demanding and abrasive.

"Now, now, Cornelius-"

"Dumbledore, you will let me see the boy and that is final. I am the bloody Minister of Magic and what I say-"

"Has little or nothing to do with the respective privacy of citizens", Dumbledore replied sharply. "We must, as leaders of government, remember that abuse of power is a very serious indeed. Remember that following the law is not treading the path that resembles the law, but rather being a part of it, and contained within it."

"Yet it is my right as the Minister of Magic to-"

"Cornelius! Have you not heard a word I said?"

"Of course I have. But this is well within my rights as Minister."

"Where, pray tell, can you find a law that describes your right to request audience with citizens? I've been studying Wizarding Law and playing an active part in adjudicating for the past fifty years. I have yet to see-"

"Very well, but who are you to deny me the audience with the boy?"

"I am, Cornelius, the boy's headmaster. Have you forgotten the Hogwarts Charter itself, my boy? You will wait until Harry leaves the protection of the school before you _ask_ to speak with him. And if he refuses, you will not harass him."

Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, nodded slightly, rebellion written all over his face, quickly left the Headmaster's office.

"The things I put up with as the damned Headmaster of this place."

Dumbledore's Phoenix, the red and gold Fawkes, thrilled, and Dumbledore was at peace.

"Now, how can I chance a meeting with young Harry?"

**Mangekyo**

On Christmas Eve, Harry did not read any books, or even practice with his Kusanagi. He had, instead, slipped away, beyond where the ward lines dispersed naturally due to the corrosive properties of the Forbidden Forest, and attempted to Apparate into London. After feeling himself nearly lost several limbs for no good reason at all, panicking, and undo his Apparition, he settled for just a little bit of damage to his eyes.

"Mangekyo Sharingan. Kamui."

Harry appeared in a back alley near Trafalgar Square, and made his way through London on foot, taking in the sights and sounds of families doing last minute Christmas shopping together, people speaking loudly on street corners, and various cars stuck in traffic.

He reached his true destination after crossing the Westminster Bridge - East End. He walked past the more well to do areas as sunset approached, and turned onto memory lane.

**Mangekyo**

He was eight when his uncle kicked him out of the car on whim in the seedier section of London's East End, at three in the morning. After being accosted more than once by the poor and filthy, he realized that his Sharingan was intensely powerful here, beyond anything at Little Whinging. Being substantially stronger and faster than children his age, and being much younger helped him escape hundreds of what could only have been sexual predators.

It was a place with more misery than anywhere he had ever been before.

Mothers cried for their missing children. Old, destitute veterans of the Great War smoked cheap cigarettes and disappeared into fantasies of youth. Immigrants slaved for a living.

It had been Christmas Eve.

It was here that he learned that, despite all troubles, people survived. People persevered. People lived.

And here, he returned every year, to bear witness to the power of humanity.

He had managed to return to Privet Drive on January Eighth. It was the first and last time his aunt had ever been truly worried for him. She had even shouted at Vernon for several minutes.

**Mangekyo**

Harry returned to his dorm with another use of Kamui at eleven in the evening, and prepared himself for bed, then slept.

When he woke in the morning, it was to a Neville shaking him.

"Wake up Harry! You've got presents!"

Harry turned an impassive eye to him. "Thank you for waking me."

He walked down to the common room, where presents were arrayed under the rather oversized Christmas tree, and picked up his four presents.

After realizing that both Daphne and Hermione had bought him presents, he immediately felt a pang of guilt. "I'll get them birthday gifts", he promised out loud, though there was no one in sight. Then he realized he had missed both Hermione's birthday in October, and Daphne's in November. "Bugger."

He opened the Dursley's gift first, and found a pound note within a piece of loose leaf, which Aunt Petunia had scrawled "Happy Christmas" on, hurriedly.

"Interesting."

He opened Hermione's next, and was pleased to discover a book - _A Complete Guide to Arithmancy _by Nume Ratica, Centennial Edition, edited by Calco Lass and Spelcrea Torr, which was eight thousand pages long. He had been meaning to start Arithmancy in January, and had mentioned it some time in November, and was thus surprised that Hermione had remembered.

Daphne's gift was more generic, containing various sweets, but it had a several-hundred word long note that Harry knew he'd keep for the rest of his life. It was so awkward, well written, and _Daphne_ at the same time, beginning with a paragraph that gave an overview of Daphne's history of giving bad presents, and trepidation about writing a note of all things, transitioning into a philosophical discussion about Harry's eyes, and then concluding that the thing he needed the most was to eat chocolate, because Daphne's mother had claimed that it solved all problems. And then Daphne wondered if Harry might have an aversion to chocolate, and decided to throw in a few other sweets, just in case.

The last gift might have been the most expensive or magnificent, but it was the least satisfying out of all his legitimate gifts (he would not count the Dursleys). It was an Invisibility Cloak of all things. It was unlike any other magical object he had seen - each strand had been woven with magic, and only magic. He could sense that it was permanent, but not in the way that a permanent conjuration, which crossed from the realm of magic into the realm of reality, was permanent. It was magic, pure and simple, with more power than anything he had ever encountered. Yet the majority of its power seemed to simply hold the cloak together. Harry realized, after a thorough examination with his eyes, that the only reason it could exist in this state was the large amount of magic. There were no runes of any sort on it. It was simply an invisibility charm, slowly built to such heights of energy that it decomposed space-time, and ripped into it the same manner Kamui did.

He wasn't sure he could destroy it even if he wanted to. There was no doubt that this gift had either cost a fortune, or... a note dropped out of it.

_Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A Very Happy Christmas to you._

Harry stared at the note, mildly nonplussed. He mentally went through the list of people who had known his parents, and decided that it could have come from everyone, from Professor Snape to Professor McGonagall to a Healer in St. Mungo's Hospital that he'd never seen or met.

He realized that there was actually another present, a thin box with Professor McGonagall's signature on it, and a short note that claimed that the box was full of fanmail.

Harry shook his head, found a table, and opened the box. Immediately, several hundred letters shot everywhere in the room, the majority of them with pictures of him walking through the corridors, him smiling at a cropped picture of Daphne (the blond hair was very prominent), him pointing a wand at something in Transfiguration class, him...

Every picture had notes that requested autographs.

Harry pulled deeply at his magic, and etched an ink rune into the box that would summon everything that he identified as fanmail when he waved his wand near it, then pointed his wand outwards, and spun in a circle. All the fanmail immediately flew back into the box, and he slammed it shut.

He left the Common Room, and headed down to the Great Hall, where only the Weasley Twins were present. They were planting dungbombs and various prank items onto the Head Table.

"Brilliant", Harry stated. "McGonagall usually sits in that seat right?"

Harry pointed at the seat on the right side of Dumbledore's throne.

The Twins gasped. "You're going to prank _McGonagall_?"

"She started it." Harry held up the box of letters. "When I opened this, several hundred letters flew everywhere, with pictures of me, from women ranging from five to five hundred." He smiled bitterly, and began etching runes onto a piece of parchment, and applied sticking charms to both sides of it, and stuck it under McGonagall's chair. The box followed it.

"What did you do?" a Weasley Twin asked.

"Oh, the three runic series were Egyptian Pressure Response runes, a Cambodian Release rune, and an Indonesian Wind series, so when she sits down, the enchantments on the box will break, dumping all the mail out, and the Norweigian Wind series will blow the mail all over the room."

"You're a genius, but you can't top what we've come up with for Snape!" declared a twin.

"Look up there", a twin pointed, "that's a vat of grease transfigured into one of those angel decorations flying around. When he sits down, the Sumerian Spark rune will light a ten minute fuse. Snape's reaction time is great, because he used to be a Dea- duelist of sorts. But when he realizes that nothing has happened, he'll start eating. In ten minutes, thirty two gallons of grease will come down, drenching him, and every teacher near him."

"I concede. That is probably better." Harry smiled genuinely, and then sat at the Gryffindor table, and discussed the use of Runes in pranking with the Weasley Twins.

**Mangekyo**

Dumbledore and Snape walked into the Great Hall first, followed by Flitwick and Sprout, with McGonagall and the astronomy professor, Sinistra, bringing up the rear.

McGonagall took her seat after checking her food for potions, and, apparently satisfied, sat down. She immediately jumped up, her years of experience telling her that she had triggered a runic series. "What on earth could those Twins-"

A pile of fanmail leaked out from under her seat. "Maybe I shouldn't have given Mr. Potter his fanmail after all." She smiled. "Isn't it amazing that a First Year could use runes to such an eff-"

The Wind runes activated, and blew the fanmail everywhere. McGonagall stared at Harry, who was looking up at her angelically, and decided that there was no real harm done, vanished the mail, and began drinking the mead on the table, clinking glasses with Professor Dumbledore, who had been pulling Christmas crackers.

Snape reluctantly sat, and he too jumped up when he realized he triggered a rune, but then sat down when nothing happened in three minutes. He looked to be on the edge of his chair for around five minutes, but then relaxed when Dumbledore offered him a huge, extremely fluffy scarf. He smiled (a very strange sight indeed), and wrapped it around him.

Then the angel that had been hovering above him turned back into a vat of grease, and turned over him. Unfortunately for the Weasley twins, Snape saw the shadow, and had both leapt out of the way and transfigured the majority of the grease into a large sponge. Several dollops of grease fell on the scarf, and he looked very disappointed when he realized that cleaning charms had no effect on it.

Dumbledore smiled and shook his head, effectively burning the grease off without harming the scarf, and Snape sat down again, smirking at the Weasley Twins.

"It it were anyone but Snape or Dumbledore", the twin on the left of Harry shook his head.

**Mangekyo**

After a short snowball fight in the light of the school's windows, in which Harry dominated Fred and George Weasley, as well as Ron, who had joined halfheartedly when he realized that Harry was playing, a cold and wet Harry was chased out of the Restricted section by Madame Pince, the librarian.

Harry ducked into the Common Room to warm up, and realized that his original image of being an aloof bastard had probably been defeated by Christmas, of all things.

He decided that it wasn't too terrible to have friends, though. Hermione, Daphne, and even the Twins were much more durable than Ovid, and no one would take a knife to them, right?

After another long conversation about pranks (once more), as well as various things that third years did, the Weasleys headed off to bed, and Harry was left contemplating life in front of the Common Room fire.

He realized that he couldn't sleep until he had solved a slight Transfiguration problem with the help of a book in the Restricted Section, but it was one in the morning already, and McGonagall would not be sympathetic to his cause, least of all today. She was likely drunk (as she had kissed Hagrid on the cheek during dinnertime).

He picked up his Invisibility cloak, and pulled it on, revelling in the way it allowed him to blend into space-time. He walked slowly through the halls, managing to alert no one, and walked into the library. He walked beyond the divide, and pulled the hood of his Cloak off.

_Alchemy, Aritmancy... no, no, further down... Runes - Xeno Series... Transfiguration_...

He pulled out a book entitled _Thirteen treatises on the Breakdown of Gamp's Laws and their uses in Ritualistic Runecrafting_, and began leafing through it when he realized that he might have just triggered an alarm, if the ward array that was suddenly visible on the shelf glowed orange, then red.

"Bugger."

He snapped the book shut, pushed it back into place, and dashed through the library silently. He slid past a running Professor Snape, who had heard footsteps, and was groping the air like a blind man, fanning the air to disrupt Disillusionment Charms with his wand, and ducked into a classroom.

In the classroom was a huge mirror, with the words Erised s'tra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi carved onto the top.

_I show not your face but your heart's desire._

Harry stared at the outer edges of the Mirror, unwilling to peer into it for the moment, and walked up to it slowly. He looked at the bottom, and realized a pair of Rs were carved into the gold.

He steeled himself, and stared at it.

A Harry looked back at him, his parents sitting together on a loveseat to his left, and Hermione and Daphne reading and revising in what looked like several seats from the third floor.

But the most important thing about the Harry was that he was mumbling 'Mangekyo Sharigan' over and over again. Harry watched, fascinated, as the Harry's eyes stayed a beautiful green shape, and his mother got up from behind him, and hugged him.

He unconsciously put his hand where his mother's arm was in the mirror, and was intensely disappointed to feel nothing.

"Mangekyo Sharingan."

He stared at the mirror again, and the image slowly changed from an image of his family and friends, to something else entirely.

Harry Potter lay on the floor, his eyes spinning in death, the body of a pale, snake-like man on the floor next to him.

He was unable to tear his eyes away from the sight.

He deactivated his Sharingan, and stared at his parents a while longer, and at Daphne and Hermione even longer, then left.

In the back of the classroom, Dumbledore stared at Harry's back for nearly an hour, waiting for the boy to turn around.

When he left, a single question was in his mind.

_What does Mango Coke Cherry Gun mean_?

**Mangekyo**

This marks the first half of my Sunday Special release.

Stay tuned for the end of Harry's First Year!


	8. Finale 1: The Eyes of His Mother

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter, nor the Mango Coke Cherry Gun.

Poll: Harry/Hermione, Harry/Daphne, Harry/Hermione/Daphne, Harry/SasukeSuperAvengerMode? Please don't think I'm serious about the last bit.

Results as of my writing:

H/Hr: 6

H/D: 0

H/Hr/D: 4

Author's Note: This is the end of Harry's First Year. *pumps fist in the air* This is also the second half of my Sunday Special! Hope you enjoy it!

**Mangekyo**

The man who held the title of Most Powerful Wizard in the World for several decades was contemplating various objects that he had Snape fetch for him as the other man did his potion runs in London.

In front of him were three varieties of mangoes, _A House on Mango Street_ by Sandra Cisneros, a can of Coke, a small bag of white powder that Snape had made him promise not to put his nose near, a small bag of cherries, and several models of muggle firearms.

"Now, to find the connection between these objects."

**Mangekyo**

The term had begun once more, and Harry, Hermione and Daphne were had fallen into a happy routine of revising, learning, and practicing magic. While Daphne had grown up around magic, she still had the same awe for it as Harry and Hermione did.

Harry spent the majority of his time on Arithmancy and Spell Creation, though he never actually developed a new spell. His mission instead, was to decompose the great Mangekyo powers, to discover a way to repair his eyes after using them.

The problem was that the reality-bending Kamui, the mind-shattering Tsukuyomi, the majestic Amaterasu, and the currently unknown Susano'o as well as the eye-sacrificing Izanagi were fundamentally different - each one of them. Harry realized that there was no 'most difficult to research' Mangekyo spell, because they were all intensely difficult. Kamui required an intimate knowledge of relativity and Einstein's work. Tsukuyomi required extreme skill in something called Occlumency and its counterpart, Legilimency. Amaterasu required knowledge of Elemental powers and knowledge of any and all forms of fire. He didn't even know what Susano'o really did, and he knew he had no frame of reference to research the Izanagi.

Thus, Hermione had helped him mail-order (through her parents), nearly twenty books on higher mathematics and theoretical physics.

Daphne had managed to raid her family's library over the break and brought him rare books on Occlumency and Legilimency, which Harry immediately insisted that the three of them learn.

He personally went through the library systematically, to find any mention of fire, memorizing titles and covers, and taking anything that had any bearing on the situation at all. He even secured a pass from McGonagall, under the guise of studying Transfiguration (which he did, too), and a supplementary pass from Flitwick (which got Madame Pince out of his face). By the end of his search, he had over thirty books that mentioned Fire, or at least the elements.

Yet he made no progress whatsoever. Though he understood how the Space-Time rips worked (they were, apparently, breakdowns of extra-dimensional space from the various Calibu-Yau shapes that folded within themselves and split), had rudimentary knowledge of Occlumency and intimate knowledge of Fire (which quickly became his favorite element), he didn't want to actually use the Mangekyo techniques.

They were too dangerous. Too powerful. And the only way to use Tsukuyomi was to hurt his friends. And he definitely didn't want to do that.

He decided, after two months of hard work, with hundreds of Arithmancy equations in a specifically dedicated notebook he simply labelled "Mangekyo", he would shelve the project until he knew more about magic in general.

**Mangekyo**

It was March when he discovered the secret to speeding himself up to the level of the Mangekyo. His original idea had been to force his muscles to contract and expand with more speed that it would normally - allowing him to move faster for three seconds in Mangekyo time - or three sixteenths of a second in real time.

While this allowed him to nail nearly two targets with spells, it was fundamentally useless in a duel with anyone who was competent. In the _Fall of the White Line_, the book that his mother had written, Harry realized that powerful wizards snapped of spells in chains - several of them were put together to form a dense net of bizarre, exotic, or extremely dangerous spells that were hard to counter, and resulted in a quick death for anyone going up against them.

But that was before he learned that he should have been attempting to slowly strengthen his muscles with his magic instead.

The original methodology was to shoot magic through his muscles and galvanize them into moving at extreme speeds. When they hit something he called 'critical point', his muscles would seize up, and for a slight instance, atrophy slightly, before the magic healed it, and they worked like normal.

After several months of trial and error, he realized that the fact that his magic could heal his muscles so quickly was astounding.

So he slowly fed magic into his muscles until they began to absorb it, and began to move faster naturally, strengthening them to an intense degree.

Then he entered what he called 'turbo mode', when he forced his muscles like he did originally. The result was twenty three seconds of Mangekyo time before the healing buffer subsided. The buffering process, which he called the 'charge step', took twice as long in real time as the Mangekyo utilized in turbo mode.

When he had first discovered it, he could only hold the charge step for ten seconds before it failed and his gathered magic simply disappeared into the environment. On the bright side, he knew that his charge step would begin to fail if he felt his muscles twitching, and switching to turbo mode became imperative.

The results were spectacular. When he began the charge step, he could sacrifice some of his muscle's energy to break through spells that hit him (though it slowed the charge step down), and when he finally entered turbo mode after dueling for as much time as he wanted the charge step to take, he could spray a huge amount of spells, or even weave past a casting opponent and stick the Kusanagi into them. He had no illusions about the deadliness of _that_.

**Mangekyo**

"You're training too hard, Harry."

"Just add the broiled root into the- wait a second..."

"See, you wouldn't have _ever_ made a mistake like that if you weren't working on your swordsmanship all day, and your damned Arithmancy all night."

"Daphne, I have expectations for myself. I have expectations for the world. And most importantly, the world has expectations for me. There will be... ever so much misery if I do not find a way to stop Voldemort. You know better than anyone that he's definitely not gone. Remember when we read about the Protean charms? The Dark Mark?"

Snape looked up sharply. Lily's boy knew that the Dark Lord wasn't gone. Because he'd done research on Protean charms of all things.

"Potter, see me after class."

Harry raised his eyebrows even as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Yes, sir."

That had represented the only interaction he'd had with Snape since the beginning of the year, when the man had sniped at him until he was convinced that Harry had, in fact, memorized Spore's work on Magical Plants and Fungi.

After the class ended, Daphne stood patiently outside the classroom, as Harry watched Snape bottle the Sneeze Suppressant potion that the class had been brewing. "Forgive me for asking, sir, but where do those potions go, after you bottle them?" Harry was always polite.

"They are given, in large quantities, to the lesser hospitals which provide free care to wizards who can't afford St. Mungo's."

Harry stood, unwavering, for several minutes, as Snape finished bottling the potions, and packed them away into boxes with rudimentary expansion charms on them. Snape cast a temporary Unbreakability charm on the bottles, and sealed the package, then turned to Harry.

"I must admit, Potter, that you're not what I expected."

"What did you expect, sir?"

"I didn't think you'd be someone who could survive as a profession poker player."

Harry raised his eyebrows ever so slightly. Snape's face twitched into a smirk. "You know he's out there."

"Yes. I do."

"You know because the Dark Lord's Protean charm has not been destroyed."

"That is true. If he had truly died, all the Dark Marks would have faded, or the Death Eaters would have died with him, or something dramatic to that effect."

Snape nodded. He had not entertained the possibility that he might die with the Dark Lord.

"You're in a world of adults, Potter. This is a world that you are _not_ prepared to enter. But I will tell you now, that you are the son of a man I hated, and a woman I... respected, more so than any other. We all fought the Darkness in our own ways. One of us fought from the rooms of safehouses. One of us fought battles against Death Eaters. And one of us fought as a Death Eater, using the Darkness to shroud our Light, and release it when it was thought to be the most vulnerable."

There was a pregnant pause, as Harry contemplated Snape's words - no, as Snape contemplated Harry's visage.

"You are very much unlike a child of eleven would be, Harry _Potter_." Snape said the name like a curse. "But for such a phenomenon, which I would have thought was impossible, I suppose you have passed my test. An immature child would have jumped at the chance to earn glory. To prove himself. So I will ask you, in truth, if you shall spear the Darkness with the Light, from any position that you shall take."

Harry narrowed his eyes slightly, in deep thought, not exasperation.

"I shall. But I shall only do so because it is necessary for the entity, Harry Potter, who defeats dragons and rescues damsels to do so. Yet I shall not fight as Harry... _Potter_." Harry put the same inflection that Snape had on his own name. "I shall fight as Harry, Harry who is the son of the House Gryffindor. Harry, who goes to bed with Misery."

"Misery..." Snape snorted. "Misery... got your mother killed. Misery... that should have defeated the Dark Lord."

And then they both knew that the other knew. "Look into my eyes, Harry."

Harry did as he was told.

"Legilimens!"

Harry widened his eyes as he felt as Snape's probe tore towards his mind with the intent to kill.

"Mangekyo Sharingan. Tsukuyomi!"

The hard steel of Snape's mental probe hit the flowing lava of the Tsukuyomi, and for a moment, both stayed, locked at an impasse - Snape was a very experienced Legilimens, but Harry was using the more powerful spell.

"Who did you kill!" Snape roared, sharply.

"Nobody!" Harry shouted back, in an uncharacteristic display of emotion.

"Liar! The Kaleidoscope! Lily had the Eyes of Misery! She claimed that she would have to kill _me_ to gain the right to the Kaleidoscope! You are a boy of eleven years of age. _Who did you kill_?"

"_I _killed nobody! My Aunt Petunia, she-"

"Petunia? You killed _Petun_-"

"No! I had a pet snake! His name was Ovid, and he slept next to me for two months, before I received by Hogwarts letter. Aunt Petunia, she stabbed him to death as I watched!"

Suddenly, Snape's probe fell away as he turned his head, and the Tsukuyomi hit a mass of hair, and fizzled out. Harry began to bleed profusely from his left eye.

Snape stared at the blank wall to the right of his desk, and began his story, with a conjured glass of Firewhiskey in his left hand.

**Mangekyo**

_I was eight years old when I met your mother. She was Lily Evans, living on the other side of the river. I was little Severus Snape, the child that no one would play with because no one liked my father, and they told their kids to avoid me. I lived in a town closer to here than to London, but it was in Merry Olde England._

_She was... very different from the other children. I am, Harry Potter, a Half-Blood. My mother was Eileen Prince, the youngest child of the Prince family, and therefore, she got nothing. She got even less when she ran away with the drunkard Tobias Snape._

_I had watched Lily and her sister, your Aunt Petunia for days. When she finally did something a witch would do. She flew out of a swing, and landed thirty feet away, without a scratch on her._

_I jumped out of a bunch of bushes, and I screamed, "I know what you are!"_

_She laughed for a moment, motioned to her sister, and stared at us both. When she was convinced that we were staring at her eyes, she spoke a spell I had never heard of then. And I was quite knowledgeable for an eight year old._

"_What am I?" she asked._

"_A witch!"_

_She smirked at me. "That's not nice", she said, and then... "Sharingan!"_

_The beautiful green eyes that everyone who knew her, turned red. A single lazy tomoe spun in each eye. And she made us both forget the events of the day._

_The next day, when she finally did something that a witch would do, she flew out of a swing, and landed thirty feet away, without a scratch on her._

_I jumped out of a bunch of bushes, and I screamed at her, "I know what you are!"_

_She smirked at us, winked at her sister, looked us both in the eye. "Sharingan!"_

_She ripped everything I knew about magic out of my head that day, and told me that my existence was... miserable, as was many, many others. She hated the word, yet it was the one she used the most. She would rate things on her Misery scale. If something hurt her, she would cause them Misery._

_At that point, she had the Single Tomoe Sharingan in both eyes. She was faster than me, stronger than me. And she knew everything I knew, because she had compulsed me into reading all of my mother's spell books. She would tell me every day that... that I _belonged_ to her. That no one else had the right to her. That I would have to obey her every command. She was... a budding Dark Lady. I know it now. Do not stare at me like that, Harry. You, of all people, should know that all human beings are miserable to this degree or that. Your mother was human. You are human. You may not have killed your best friend for the Mangekyo Sharingan, but you have killed. I see it in your eyes._

_We went to Hogwarts. I went to Slytherin, and she went to Gryffindor. The Hat, the cursed Hat, he told her about the Mangekyo Sharingan. He told her about the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan. We watched as it took a year and a day to sort Lily Evans. He told her about the Byakugan, the Rinnegan, the Eagle Eye, Mage Sight, everything. She talked with it for forty five minutes. And for a moment, when you were sorted, I thought you would take just as long._

_She implanted the knowledge into my mind with her eye, because I was hers. I was a backup mind, in case her memories were erased by Dumbledore for tampering with things that no human should._

_And then, one day, I began to show resistance to her Sharingan. Now, I was already a sort of natural Occlumens. Due to all that exposure of the Sharigan, she had made me a natural Legilimens._

_She was not amused, even though my usefulness had increased marginally. I couldn't shoot off her secrets to Dumbledore anymore - though I was already conditioned to clam up, and become meek in the face of teachers. She did it by systematically planting suggestions into my mind for many, many years._

_She wasn't actually a terrible person, Harry. I knew why it had to be done, and I resented her at first. But she never tortured me. She let me feel respected and wanted, when no one else did._

_Yes, you are the first person I have ever, or will ever tell this story to._

_Lily and I, we fought very often, over the smallest of things. In fifth year, we had a fight so bad that she looked in a mirror, and used her eyes on herself, to convince herself that she hated me, and loved James Potter of all people. We both detested him. He was the Ronald Weasley of your generation, with a brain, and a bias against Slytherin. I would be closest to Neville Longbottom of all people, and your mother would have been very much like Daphne Greengrass._

_The problem was that James Potter and Albus Dumbledore had been dosing her with a mild love potion. He had to appease the boy, didn't he? And he knew that a weak love potion wouldn't actually work on someone with her magical potential. Unfortunately, with the mental ramparts that held the potion back by sheer willpower broken, she immediately jumped into his bed._

_They shagged like bunnies for the next two years, and even when she finally lifted her compulsion had been lifted in the mirror again, the love potion had taken her over, and she no longer had the need to maintain her hatred for James Potter, and she eventually lost control over that part of her mind._

_She dueled better than any of us. Only Dumbledore was ever a match for her, but he was so much better than everyone, that he defeated her easily._

_Yes, I'll tell you about the relative skill of everyone under Dumbledore's employ. It was the Order of the Phoenix, and the best duelist was Lily, followed by Minerva McGonagall. Dumbledore and Flitwick don't count - they're both legends in their own right, and Flitwick always managed to get out of Lily's spells by countering them when they were in the air. He has a very specific technique for countering people quicker than him that I doubt anyone could learn without years and years of practice. On a good day, he could win against Dumbledore once in a while, in the Dueling Pit, at least._

_She joined the Order of the Phoenix, and I joined the Death Eaters. I was her Lieutenant. I would rot away at Voldemort's power, and she would rot away at Dumbledore's power. One day, she would grow more powerful than the old man, and she would conquer them both, and set up a society that didn't discriminate against Muggleborns._

_I am unclear as to what really happened next. She sent me to eavesdrop on Dumbledore and the Divination Professor Trelawney, and I heard the old fraud give a true Prophecy concerning you. It goes _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. _There's more of it, which might be important, but at that point, I knew it was Lily. Lily knew it was Lily._

_She still had me leak it to the Dark Lord. No one knew exactly what it meant anyway. Lily decided, however, that she had defied the Dark Lord three times. She, Potter and Frank Longbottom dueled him to a standstill when she was just seventeen, and he left when Dumbledore arrived. Potter and Longbottom had dueled him again, and had barely gotten away._

_Then she dueled him again, Christmas Eve, 1980 in Hogsmeade. She was barely pregnant with you, and they had the most amazing duel I had ever seen. She was always gifted with the Elements, and the Dark Lord's magic was the perfect counter to most of her technique, but the few spells of the Holy Light she and Dumbledore had picked up from a journey to the Vatican paid out. She burned the Dark Lord very, very badly, and it took the efforts of eighteen Death Eaters casting healing charms and thirteen Imperiused Healers to save him. I don't think I've ever seen Dumbledore as proud of any of his students._

_I don't know what happened, Halloween night, 1981, but the general consensus is that she didn't have her wand, or she didn't want to risk hurting you. All I know is that she died that night. James Potter died that night. And that the Flames of Heaven happened at some point. They claimed that Voldemort must have summoned Necromantic Flames to defeat her or James Potter, but I don't think he ever delved in Necromancy. He hated the dead, and he only used Inferi because it was fashionable for budding Dark Lords at the time._

_But somehow, the facts that you have to work with are that Lily summoned the Amaterasu flames that night. The Dark Lord cast Avada Kedavra and it left his wand, at you. By the time it hit you, he was likely defeated._

**Mangekyo**

Snape downed the rest of his Firewhiskey in one go, and stared straight into Harry's eyes.

"Many people died, and many people will die. But beyond that, there is misery in every human heart. Now, I will ask you again. Will you fight?"

Harry stood up, and walked out of the room. But before he left, he declared himself, in a way that would change history forever.

"I will."

**Mangekyo**

It seemed that whoever had cut off the Cerberus's left head was on his side. It fell asleep very easily when he transfigured a harp, and it played a nocturne.

"Child's play", said Quirrell as he confronted a Devil's Snare. He relaxed his body, and it fell to the ground in a thump.

He walked past an imposing set of double doors into a room with flying keys. He rolled his eyes, examined the lock, and shot each one out of the sky with multiple stunning spells. When he finally found the correct one, he opened the door. While he had inadvertently reanimated the keys, he was quick enough to get through the door.

He was confronted by a gigantic chessboard, transfigured into perfection. He snorted in disbelief, and began blasting the chess pieces left and right, with Killing Curses thrown into the mix. He ducked a huge crown that the opposing king threw at him, and destroyed it with a Bludgeoning Curse, and then proceeded to the next room - the one that he himself had designed.

He grudging admitted that he was inspired by whoever had dispatched of his first troll. He conjured a steel pole, and sent it flying through the troll's neck, ending its life immediately. He even wrinkled his nose as he passed by.

He walked through the next room. "_Severus_!" he mentally bellowed. Only the Potions Master himself would create a _logic _puzzle of all things to stop a wizard in his tracks.

He cast a Flame Freezing Charm on himself, and experimentally stuck his hand into the huge black flames that impeded his path. He cursed as it burned him rather badly. He put out the flames with his wand, and drank from each one of the vials in quick succession. He realized he had succeeded when he walked through the flames without anything happening.

He immediately swallowed a bezoar of high quality - the stone had been taken from a wild mountain goat as opposed to a pet goat, and he felt his nervous system and his circulatory system return to normal. He downed his last vial of Unicorn's blood, which managed to stabilize his bound soul, which was coming apart, piece by piece.

He convulsed on the ground for a moment - the Unicorn's blood was becoming less and less effective daily. But it was okay. He would have the Philosopher's Stone soon. It was just bad luck that the Potter boy had managed to stall him for long enough in Diagon Alley to kill the once in a decade opportunity - Vault Cleaning Day.

He stood in front of the Mirror of Erised itself - Rowena Ravenclaw's personal artifact, and wished for a moment that there was another person in the room, so he could rip off a chunk of his soul and stick it into the object, but realized that the quicker he got it over with, the better it would be.

After standing in front of the Mirror for nearly three hours, he understood it. "I have to want to protect the Stone from Voldemort to get it."

He gave a sharp bark, and marshalled all his thoughts with the help of his extremely powerful Occlumency shields. He would have been extremely proud to know that he had done what only two people had done before - fool the Mirror of Erised. The Stone dropped into his pocket, in all of its blood red glory, and he put it to his lips, wetting it with his saliva.

Immediately, the stone dissolved into a poisonous cloud of red mist, and a huge alarm began to sound.

He immediately shot out of the room, running as fast as he could. He had to get clear of the wards before Dumbledore returned from his trip to the Ministry and managed to entrap him. That would be disastrous.

**Mangekyo**

"There are alarms ringing, Hermione."

"What are you going abo- Oh my-"

"Is that Quirrell dashing out of the Forbidden Corridor?"

"Follow him."

Harry had changed since Snape had spoken to him two months ago.

His promise, after all, had meant much more than the Potion's Master could have believed. He had promised to follow in his mother's footsteps. To forge a world that could not possibly activate any more Sharingan eyes. And he would do it the same way his mother did.

If Voldemort wasn't defeated by the time he left school, Daphne would join him, and play the same role Snape had played for his mother.

Hermione would toe Dumbledore's line. And he? He would play the role that James Potter did - fighting Voldemort directly. But he would do it in mild conflict with Dumbledore, two points of Light disagreeing.

They had both agreed. In fact, they had agreed so quickly he did not even need to use any compulsions on them, as his mother did. After all, controlling minds did not sit well with him.

It was under the guise of being another point of light that he ran after Voldemort. He could not allow the man to get away. After all, a single enemy was a lot easier to fight than two.

**Mangekyo**

"V-voldemort! The game is up!" cried McGonagall, her wand up, her backs to the double doors, as Quirrell descended from the second floor into the entrance hall.

Behind her stood Flitwick and Sprout, each with their wands drawn resolutely.

"Very funny", Quirrell stared at the teachers arrayed before him. "Do you think you can actually defeat me? Not even Dumbledore could hope to stand a chance against me."

Harry watched as the teachers began dueling, his Mangekyo Sharingan spinning.

Flitwick began first. He was walking in quick, short steps that seemed to serve no purpose, until he danced out of the way of a Killing Curse.

Harry discovered how to perform a Killing Curse.

Flitwick began a spell chain - his most famous one, the Twenty Six Greater Elemental Curses, which earned him the nickname of 'Storm' on the International circuit.

Harry watched open mouth as he instantly learned how to both perform it and counter it.

Great gouts of fire lashed at Voldemort, and he responded with globlets of water. Lightning lanced towards him, but the Dark Lord created a lightning rod which absorbed it.

McGonagall immediately broke into the duel even as Voldemort had begun to counter the twenty six spells. She transfigured various books and quills into lions and tigers, which dashed gracefully past the spellfire and leapt at Voldemort.

He responded with liberal use of Dark curses. One tiger was skinned alive. Another exploded into a shower of destroyed bone. Several more simply exploded in general. Two or three twitched on the floor, their minds shredded with horribly powerful pain curses.

_How many duels did my mother watch_? Harry wondered.

Sprout had not been idle as McGonagall and Flitwick attacked. She flooded the arena with water, and transfigured it into sticky mud. The three Professors had no problem walking on it - they had cast mild repulsion charms on their footware to allow them purchase on sticky surfaces, and the ability to move as they did normally.

McGonagall even dodged a head level Avada Kedavra by jumping over it with the help of the repulsion charm, and began firing steel spikes at Voldemort which always seemed to land face up.

Voldemort snarled as he began to actually dance, his red eyes lighting up in a perverted type of Mage Sight.

Flitwick fired a lucky Dancing charm, and Voldemort's feet immediately stuck on the various spikes, and he howled in pain.

Voldemort snarled, and cast quick healing charms on his feet, which were bleeding heavily.

Flitwick, who had recovered from the casting of twenty six chained Elemental spells and a dancing charm, was now readying sequence after sequence of charms and hexes designed to inhibit Voldemort's ability to duel, as McGonagall fired several heavy duty dueling charms at him. Sprout had finally finished drawing runes on a slip of parchment, and she powered them.

The spikes changed into Venomous Tentacula, plants which snapped at Voldemort.

Voldemort snarled in frustration again, and unleashed a large amount of his magical power. A huge fire bloomed from within the mound of biting and snapping plants, burning them all into dust, and turning the mud into hard, cracked earth. Blisters began to form on McGonagall's face.

Flitwick and McGonagall were dueling in desperation now, hoping to hold off Voldemort until Dumbledore arrived. McGonagall cursed, realizing that even if Dumbledore had heard the alarm, he would not be at Hogwarts for a while - the Headmaster's pet Phoenix, which could teleport the man beyond wards, had suffered a burning day, and was now a newborn chick in the man's office. The specific curse that McGonagall uttered was the Killing Curse.

Harry watched in morbid fascination as the green light flew wide, hit a marble bust of a long-forgotten wizard, and it exploded into a shower of dust. Hermione and Daphne were literally taking notes of the battle.

By now, nearly all of Hogwarts had shown up.

Draco Malfoy thought it was the perfect time to get revenge for all the points that McGonagall had docked from him. "Expelliarmus!" he cried. While his spell was weak, his aim was true, and McGonagall had not even noticed him.

Her wand sailed from her arm and landed on the second floor, up a set of staircases. Malfoy gave a smirk of triumph that quickly died as McGonagall glared at him hard enough to melt him. It actually resulted in accidental magic, and Malfoy's hair and clothing caught on fire. A Slytherin prefect extinguished it even as McGonagall dove and ducked out of the way. Someone attempted to throw her wand to her, but they missed, and it was lost in the crowd.

It was a losing battle for Sprout and Flitwick after that. Sprout was nearly squashed like a fly as a hugely overpowered Bludgeoning Curse hit her side, and she flew through a window, and landed on the ground, unmoving, outside.

Flitwick dueled courageously for two more minutes, sending elemental spell after elemental spell.

"Cast a spell on my eyes. Make sure that everyone only sees what they remember my eyes to look like."

Hermione and Daphne thought for a moment, and drew several runes on a piece of paper, then powered a spell with the runic array. "It's done, Harry."

"Mangekyo Sharingan. Do my eyes look any different?"

"Yes."

"No."

"Wait, what?"

"I probably think of your eyes as the eyes of Misery, and she thinks of them as the beautiful shade of green they normally are", Hermione shrugged.

Harry nodded, and began his Charge Step.

A moment later, Voldemort had nailed Flitwick with the Cruciatus Curse, causing him an intense amount of pain. Flitwick began to writhe on the floor screaming.

"Enough."

Harry jumped down in an extraordinary display of athletic prowess, behind Voldemort, the Kusanagi drawn and glinting in his left hand, his wand in his right. His voice had been soft, but it carried easily over the gasping and crying students.

"Young Harry Potter", Voldemort cackled, dragging the bloodstained hem of his robes away from Flitwick. He pointed his wand at Harry, and fired a Cruciatus curse at him. Harry sidestepped it easily - he had seen Voldemort aim it. He had seen Voldemort prepare the magic. He had seen the curse slowly make its way towards him. How could he have not dodged it?

"Your mother screamed and begged as I killed her. I believe what she said was 'not my Harry. Kill me instead!'"

Harry gave a harsh, barking laugh, but his face stilled suddenly. "You won't get a rise out of me, Voldemort. Shall we?"

"I like you, my boy! Would you entertain the idea of joining me?" Voldemort snapped a Killing Curse at Harry, but he sidestepped it as easily as he had dodged the Cruciatus.

"You have a better chance of recruiting my mother." Harry fired an Ice Spear that he had seen Flitwick use at the man.

Voldemort's eyes widened in alarm, as he quickly darted out of the way. "You never showed this much aptitude in my class, Harry!" he smirked.

Harry narrowed his eyes, and they began to circle. Voldemort was under the impression that he was playing with his prey. Harry was in his Charge Step, gathering energy into his muscles.

Voldemort suddenly let loose a Wide-Area Bludgeoning curse. Harry frowned. For an eight minute duel, it was inconceivable that no one would use a Shield Charm at all, but it had happened. He did not know to block it. So he decided to sacrifice around fifteen seconds of his charged magic to...

Harry's hand shot out and impacted the Bludgeoning wave, and he tore through it at that point. A huge gong was heard.

The true power of the Wide Area Bludgeoneer was, after all, the ability to divert nearly eighty five percent of its power into one point after it had been cast, after all.

Harry's right fist, which had been gripping his arm, broke through the spell quite easily, but he could feel nearly twenty five seconds worth of his Charge Step dissipate. That would mean that it would take around fifty seconds to use it to its full potential. His internal clock realized he had been Charging for a cumulative total of thirty seconds with the interruption.

"I tire of this, Harry." Voldemort began casting at greater rates, and students squeaked, as they rushed up the stairs to give the two combatants room to duel.

_45 seconds total_. Harry gritted his teeth as he nearly hit a Killing Curse in the process of dodging a pain curse. He snapped out a bunch of Elemental spells.

_60 seconds total_. Harry continued firing Elemental spells.

"He's as good as Lily was", Sprout said to McGonagall weakly. She had crawled to her feet and dragged herself up the stairs.

McGonagall stared at her wand, which was rolling around on the floor near Harry's of the Entrance Hall.

The students gazed in open shock, hero worship, or with flushed faces as Harry slowly became more and more muscular looking as he-

"Is he attempting some sort of physical transformation?" McGonagall screeched, as she realized that the beautifully cut muscles were appearing _very_ suddenly. Someone snapped a picture of Harry as a particularly nasty charm burned his robes off, and he was left with a literally smoking body and the pair of jeans he wore undernearth his robes.

The muscles, which had been bulking before, receded slightly, streamlining. The strange-looking bulky muscle had become lean muscle, and-

"He's very, very attractive under those robes", Susan Bones giggled.

"I'm glad to see you have your priorities right", snapped Hermione, as she watched Harry duel Voldemort with increasing worry.

_75 seconds._ Harry realized that, in five seconds, he would approach Critical Point. He realized that Voldemort was preparing another Wide-Area charm, and he would possibly have to start back at square one if he was hit, and immediately charged into Turbo mode.

When Harry normally activated his Mangekyo, he felt as if he were moving through goop. The enemy was generally slower (not Voldemort, the man was faster than he was). When he was in his Charge step, he actually moved a little faster. He felt as if he were swimming through the air.

When he was in his Turbo mode, it was as if he moved in synch with the Mangekyo Sharingan. He never felt more free.

He dashed forward, and Voldemort, who was alarmed by the sudden change in pace to one that only Dumbledore could accomplish, began throwing huge sets of spells everywhere. Harry couldn't even get close to the man, it seemed.

_No one should be able to move that fast without the Sharingan_. Harry ran around Voldemort as he sent another Wide Area Bludgeoning curse at him.

_10 seconds of Turbo mode left_. He could feel his already strained muscles tiring. "It's now or never", he mumbled.

He shot forward, bulling his way through Voldemort's defenses. The man raised his first shield charmed, entirely alarmed by the events of the previous ten seconds - he had used nearly a third of his magical reserves to keep a continuous net of spells flying.

Harry's Kusanagi plunged into Voldemort's stomach, cutting through the _Aegis Fortiis_, Voldemort's Snake Embossed Silver Dueling shield as if it were paper, just as Harry fell out of Turbo mode, and Voldemort's wand appeared in his face.

"It appears that we are at a little bit of a dilemma here, Potter. It all comes down to where or not you can kill me before I can kill you. While you may be able to kill me quite easily, I AM Lord Voldemort, and I can cast a Killing Curse at you rather easily. So, before we end this farce, any last words, Potter?"

"Yes, actually. It's what my mother should have said when you asked her what _her_ last words should have been. Amaterasu!"

Black flames blossomed out of Harry's eyes, ripping through Hermione and Daphne's illusion as if it were never cast.

While Harry's back was to his fellow students and teachers, his eyes were directly in front of Voldemort's. Voldemort's mouth widened in shock as the huge burst of black flames came out of Harry's spinning red eyes, consuming first his wand, and then his entire body.

The Unicorn's blood, which was in Quirrell's liver at the moment, was also consumed, and Voldemort's soul came free of his host.

Even as Voldemort attempted to possess Harry as his last trick, the Castle's Wards ripped him away, and threw him past the Ward Lines, into somewhere within the North Atlantic.

Harry closed his eyes, sheathed his sword, and slumped to the ground, breathing heavily.

It was to cheering and whistling that Dumbledore walked into, wondering what had happened.

Needless to say, he paled dramatically when he realized that Harry was clutching onto his sword, blood seeping from one side of his face in rivulets, and a frantic McGonagall casting Healing Charms onto the Boy-Who-Lived and his Charms Professor.


	9. The Eyes of Magical Britain

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter, nor the Mangekyo Sharingan

Poll: It's still going on, actually.

Convince me why it should be either H/Hr or H/Hr/Daphne

H/Hr/Daphne is winning by a landslide at the moment.

Author's Note: This is the wrap-up of Harry's first year, and a slice of summer life.

**Mangekyo**

"I do believe explanations are in order, Minerva!" Dumbledore thundered.

"Not now, Albus! Help Madame Pomfrey stabilize Harry! Filius isn't in critical condition any more!"

Dumbledore cast charm after charm on Harry. Throughout the entire process, Harry's eyes remained open, though he looked to be in serious pain.

"All his muscles are in atrophy for some reason! It's exacerbating the Organ Rotting curse that You-Know-Who hit him with."

"Such a brave boy", Dumbledore shook his head.

"Oh he wasn't just brave, Albus, he beat him!" McGonagall crowed.

At that moment, Snape burst through the doors. "What in the name of-"

"You old _bat_!" Sprout screeched. "Where were you when we were dueling You-Know-Who? Where were you when Harry stuck a _sword_ into him and burned him alive?"

"Why is he bleeding from the eye?" Dumbledore mumbled, just loud enough for the teachers to hear.

"Is the Organ Rotting curse at his brain already?" Madame Pomfrey, the school healer, gasped.

"No, no, I think the blood vessels popped with the exertion." McGonagall had dropped to her knees after managing to pull Flitwick out of danger entirely.

"I can believe that", Sprout nodded. "He entered the fray firing an Ice Spear of all things at You-Know-Who, and he dueled like Lily, with all the dodging. Oh, I think I know why he has it. Y-you-Know-Who fired a Wide Area Bludgeoning at him, and somehow, he managed to..." Sprout turned red, and mumbled something incoherently.

"What did he do? My hearing's going in my old age", Dumbledore smiled encouragingly, an expression that did not match his thoughts at all. He was casting stabilization charms as fast as he could.

"He _punched_ it", McGonagall said, shaking her head. "Of all the things... he could have used a shield charm, _anything_. He has to know the shield charm if he can summon elemental curses! But no, he decides to-"

"He punched it, you say?" Dumbledore looked down at Harry.

"Yes, but not only that, he began moving at speeds beyond my comprehension. V-voldemort was only able to track him because he was sending wide area spells in all directions. I don't know what he did, but the only case I've ever heard of that was remotely like this is the story of Jerome Potter, you know, the one who pointed the Sword at the Dark Lord, and charged at him by pushing his magic through himself?"

Dumbledore nodded. He was familiar with the tales of the Potter family. He had, after all, allied the Dumbledore family very closely with them. He dragged Madame Pomfrey off to the side, out of view, and cast a silencing ward around the pair of them.

"Now listen carefully, Poppy. The boy _must_ not die before he reaches his majority, and even then, it would be very, very important to keep him alive after that - remember he _is _the scion of the House Potter. There will be a very large amount of discriminatory legislation against Muggleborns if his votes go to the Blacks and the Malfoys gain eight more votes. The Third bloc-"

"I understand perfectly, Albus. I may never have been a politician, but my father didn't leave me defenseless..."

Harry, whose Mangekyo had been spinning at high speeds, picked up easily on the conversation, and before he could stop himself, words bubbled out of his mouth.

"Something's rotten in the state of Denmark."

**Mangekyo**

"Daphne. I need you to tell me about... Pureblood Politics."

Hermione looked at Harry sharply. "Harry! Isn't that something you're seeking to-"

"Yes, I might not like it, but we've got time for a little bit of a history lesson, don't we?"

Daphne nodded, stared at her watch for a moment, and decided that they would have enough time before dinner for her to give her lecture.

She pulled a ratty old armchair that didn't seem to have seen any usage in the past fifty years, and sank into it, thinking. Then she began abruptly.

**Mangekyo**

_The Wizengamot is composed of four voting blocs - factions that nearly never split on the issues. They are divided into the times that the blocs were integrated into British magical society. The Ministry of Magic was founded, after all, at the Stonehenge, three hundred years before the Romans arrived._

_From the original Ministry, we have the Most Ancient and Revered Houses, or the Druidic Houses. At some point, House Greengrass was the most prominent of the Druidic Houses, due to some vaguely described magical power that could have been specialization in fertilizer charms, or the ability to create new species._

_The other Houses that fall under this category, names that you might recognize, at the very least, are House Lovegood, House McKinnon, House Burke, House McClaggen, House Finnegan, and several others. The political atmosphere is unsurprisingly conservative. The Druids believed in a certain type of duality, and the lex naturalis, to use the Latin term, and pre-Roman magical society was Matriarchial - they honored women as their heirs._

_When the Romans arrived, the Druidic Houses fought many losing battles against them - the majority of combat spells are Latin spells, after all. The Romans were the first Wizards to mold Magic to fit in with everyday life, instead of creating crop circles and fertilizing like the Druids did._

_In the year 240 AD, the Roman wizards besieged the Ministry Building at what is now Glasgow. After a two year long battle, they finally hammered down a peace accord. The problem with the Romans is that they had no knowledge of Runes or Potionmaking, so they were constantly surprised by the Druids. Apparition was also invented by a McKinnon, before the Ministry was founded, and it stayed a British secret for nearly a thousand years, so the Romans were unable to completely defeat the Druidic Houses._

_The Peace Accord of Bath, drawn in deep Roman territory, was a dual concession. The Roman Wizards would become British wizards, but they would get equal representation in our political system. The vote on either side was very close, but it was signed by both sides in the end._

_Of the Houses that hail from the Roman line, the Potters, the Blacks, the Dumbledores, the Longbottoms are among the thirty houses that were named Most Ancient and Noble houses, because they were able to prove their lineage to the tenth ancestor._

_In the Fifth Century, Myrrdin Emyrs, of House Emyrs was born, and he allied with the muggle King Arthur to defeat the invaders of Saxony. The Muggle side didn't fare so well in that conflict, because several of the more powerful curses were created by the Saxons, but the sheer power that the British magical community was too great._

_Added to that, we see the power of Merlin himself in these conflicts. There are no clear accounts on exactly what powers he possessed, but he's generally described in narratives of the time as He-Who-Has-the-Eyes-of-the-Sage. He won campaigns, fighting all alone, and he lived for five hundred years. But he was finally defeated by the brothers Peverell, three mercenaries that legends refer to as the owners of the Deathly Hallows, but were likely just very, very skilled wizards._

_The Peverells and the Norman invaders fought against the British wizards for another fifty years before the Peace of Hastings was drafted after a muggle battle, by the first generation of Hogwarts Alumni, in their forties. Godric Gryffindor had killed a Peverell at some point, and the youngest of the Peverells married into the Potter family, but no one knows what happened to the other. Thus they are known as Peverell-No-Line, with magical gifts that were never tapped into._

_Don't look at me like that, Hermione, there's actually a reason for Pureblood discrimination. But that won't be a prevalent issue until several hundred years later._

_The Muggle policy of witch-burning came into effect around the same time the Normans began to invade, and since the Roman and Druidic Wizards felt compassion for their fellow man, they allowed the Eight Norman Houses to join their ranks - they are House Malfoy, House Lestrange, House Crouch, House Avery, House Ogden, House Fudge, House Weasley, and House Bones._

_By this point, the Wizengamot had broken off into alignments. There were Dark radicals, Light radicals, and the moderates, which were named the Conservative Houses because of their stance of sticking to tradition. House Greengrass has always been Druidic Conservative, and House Potter has always aligned themselves with the Light Radicals. Of the Eight Norman houses, three became Dark, three became Light, and two were neutral, Malfoy, Lestrange and Avery; Crouch, Weasley and Bones; Ogden and Fudge, respectively._

_The Wizengamot Convention of Eleven eleven is generally the textbook example of original nonviolent Dark, Light and Conservative alignments. The Dark radicals wanted to exterminate all Muggles, the Light wanted to parlay with them, and the Conservatives wanted to hide from them. Note that the Conservative movement was much larger in other countries on the European peninsula. In Twelve thirty eight, after over a hundred years of fighting, the Statute of Minimalization was signed. The Statute stated that if the Muggles found out about your magic, and were unhappy, you should leave them be. It was not enforced._

_However, it had far reaching economic effects - with the Statute, most families disappeared off into the sunset after they were found out, and there was very little interference, allowing for most farmers to prosper._

_In the fifteenth century, after what became known as the Two Hundred Years Peace, with no Invasions, or overt Dark Lords, the Hogwarts Charter was established, giving the Headmaster rights over the protection of any individuals under persecution for the duration of the school term, as long as the individual remained on school grounds. This was heavily blocked, for the better part of thirty years, by Conservatives, which were rapidly losing their power. The appointment of the Headmasters were generally done by the Light, yet the Dark radicals who were becoming very socially acceptable at the time didn't block it - they just abstained from most of the votes._

_It would later be known that the Dark radicals made their move during the endgame of the Charter - with the pent up political capital they gathered, they convinced the Conservatives to tack on an addendum - the Board of Governors, which had the ability to change course curriculum, and regulate funding to Hogwarts._

_That was when the majority of Hogwart's Legacy classes were cut. The Fencing program, the three other history classes - Muggle History, International Politics, and Wizengamot Studies, classes like Offense Against the Dark Arts, Alchemical Studies, Natural Sciences, Ecclesiastical Magics, and the world-renowned internship program were all slashed. The slow dumbing down of the Hogwarts curriculum is accredited to discourage Light aligned families from sending their children to Hogwarts, and instead seek Masters._

_The results of this decision would not be felt until Fifteen twenty five, when the Dark Lord Emeric the Evil, Emeric Black, terrorized Southern England, killing Light radical wizards in a desperate bid to overturn the Statute of Minimalization. Egbert Prewett challenged him to a duel, and they dueled for three days and nights before Egbert revealed that he had the First Blaze, when his pet Phoenix flew at Emeric and burned him alive with the Cleansing Phoenix Flame._

_Harry, the First Blaze is the Lord of the Light's prerogative, which gives him the ability to commune with Phoenixes. It is passed by Selection, which is a Blood ritual that takes the sliver of Merlin's DNA in the donor and duplicates it in the Recipient. Albus Dumbledore got his from Livius the Light Mage at the turn of the century._

_After Egbert Prewett was defeated by Godelot Lestrange, the First Blaze, which began its journey through documentation starting with Egbert, Uric the Oddball, or Uric Weasley, received the First Blaze, as the foremost Light Wizard of his time - he may have been insane, but he was also insanely powerful._

_Unfortunately, he fell in battle, and ended up passing the First Blaze to Havelock Sweeting, the Unicorn Master, who was also the first British Wizard to head the Internation Confederation of Wizards - it was established with the International Statute of Secrecy, Sixteen Eighty Nine._

_It was around this time that Godelot Lestrange was killed by his son, Hereward, who succeeded him as a Dark Lord. But he was without any talent at all, leading to Barnabas Deverill defeating him easily. Deverill was the first Muggleborn Dark Lord, and his entire appeal was to integrate Muggleborns into Wizarding society._

_The man who defeated Deverill was Loxias Black, the eldest brother of Phinellus Nigellus Black, the Headmaster of Hogwarts at the time. Loxias stole Deverill's Wand, and christened it the Deathstick, managing to polish off the competition._

_Loxias Black represented the Dark establishment for nearly a hundred years, and was known for conquering the South African Shamen, the Indian Brahmin Sages, and the Monks of Shangri-La. He was fought to a standstill by the American, who also went by the name Arcus, and when he returned to England, he was challenged by Livius the Light Mage, who had received the First Blaze from Sweeting's student, Withers, who was only a placeholder until Sweeting's Threefold Requirement for the First Blaze Selection was satisfied. Thus, Withers was nearly assassinated around twenty times, even if his only achievement was as a Hippogriff breeder._

_Livius passed the First Blaze to Albus Dumbledore on December thirty first, Eighteen Ninety nine. Livius was murdered in his sleep, soon afterwards, by the German. In Nineteen Oh-Eight, the first International Dark Lord, the German, who no one really knows the identity of, declared war on the British Empire._

_Albus Dumbledore, Edward Potter, and Brutus Malfoy formed a coalition. Dumbledore, at the time, was a Conservative, Edward Potter was the Light radical, and Brutus Malfoy, was, of course, the Dark radical. Together, they commanded the British Magic Corps, and Brutus Malfoy died killing the German._

_The British Ministry made a total of eighty two concessions to the Dark radicals after awarding Brutus Malfoy with the Order of Merlin in the twenties and the thirties, pardoning squads of Dark radicals who blatantly attacked Muggles. It was at this point that Albus Dumbledore, disgusted, became a Light radical, transitioning from a Conservative, and bringing vitality to the foundering movement, which had been in steady decline since the death of Edward Potter._

_Albus Dumbledore was very, very popular with everyone, elected to the seat of Supreme Mugwump by popular mandate - only the Darkest families held out, and he slowly began to undo the Dark radical policies using the image of the War Hero. He also took the post of Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts, and everyone knew that after Armando Dippet retired, he would be shoo-in for Headmaster._

_In Nineteen Forty One, Grindelwald surfaced as the most successful Dark Lord to ever exist, fighting under the banner of the Ubermensch, claiming that he would cleanse the world of Pureblood arrogance and Muggleborn stupidity, and herald a "new world order". His most inflammatory motto, however, was "For the Greater Good", which, interestingly enough, was the motto that Dumbledore ran his platform on._

_This would irreparably damage Dumbledore's political capital, even as he led charge after charge into Germany as the most heroic wizard of all time. His days of winning the Witch Weekly Most Charming Smile award was over, but very few witches of that generation claimed to have gotten over their celebrity crush on Albus Dumbledore. In truth, he was the first Wizarding Celebrity - with the advent of publications like the Daily Prophet, and Wizarding Wireless, which his position in the Wizengamot corroded, public opinion rode very high for him._

_In Nineteen Forty Five, he defeated Grindelwald at the gates of Nurmengard, flanked by Charlus Potter and Everett Weasley. Everett Weasley had just been released from Auschwitz, where he was tortured for three years, and he was bent on revenge. He tore through Grindelwald's forces as if they were made of paper, and after witnessing the most devastating duel of all time, in which more than three Eighth Level Demons and a Named Demon Lord were summoned, and a total of sixty three Phoenixes were called, as well as Quetzalcoatl himself, the duel ended with the defeat of the entire German War Machine, which the Muggle forces quickly capitulated on._

_After the war, there was ten years of Light radical reform, when the Wizengamot Checks system was implemented - with enough Ministry dissenters, they could be overruled. Dumbledore took headship of the Internation of Confederation of Wizards, the second Brit to do so in history._

_The Sixties marked the rise of V-voldemort, and people began to disappear. While Grindelwald might have been the most powerful Dark Lord of all time, You-Know-Who was the scariest. He hit Light families, Conservative families, and Dark families that didn't toe the line. He even killed the Black family head, Arcturus the Elder, when the man refused to fund him._

_In the Seventies, You-Know-Who grew unstoppable, and the only victories against him were when Albus Dumbledore engaged him directly. Whole families that had been serving on the Wizengamot for centuries would disappear, and the Diagon Alley Riots began to occur - people screaming for the heads of either the Light radicals, or the Dark radicals, depending on the day._

_In Nineteen Eighty, at the battle of Hogsmeade on Christmas Eve, Lily Potter managed to defeat V-voldemort in a duel, but he managed to escape easily. It caused an uproar - it was the first time since Morgana in which a woman had defeated a man, added to the fact that You-Know-Who was decades older than her._

_In Nineteen Eighty One, he was defeated semi-permanently, as we now know, by Harry. That's why there are so many fantasy tales about you - you had defeated the scariest Dark Lord of all time, several months after your pregnant mother did. You weren't even one yet._

_In the coming years, the power of the Dark radicals would slowly be rebuilt, as there were backlash movements accompanied by heavy recessions. The common consensus of many wizards on the Wizengamot was that You-Know-Who only wanted the death of Muggleborns and the Muggle raised, even after they were hunted down, and the numerical disparities sent a huge amount of Conservative votes to the Dark families._

_Added to that, with the retirement of Bagnold, who was a Light radical endorsed by Albus Dumbledore personally, Cornelius Fudge stepped up to the position, and he appointed Conservatives to ministry positions. While that might not have been a direct cause of trouble, the reforms of the fifties were barely used - the Ministry hardly ever vetoed the decisions of the Wizengamot, unless they were blatantly evil, like Mugglebaiting depenalization._

_This is the political scene of Nineteen Ninety One, Harry._

**Mangekyo**

The End of Term feast was dying down as Dumbledore began to award "last-minute points" to Gryffindor house for Harry's "heroic" battle with Voldemort, but Harry didn't even notice his fellow First Years cheering as he contemplated Magical society.

Daphne was sitting with Harry and Hermione at the Gryffindor table, and receiving dirty looks from Gryffindor's of all ages, especially when she leaned against Harry and watched Dumbledore from afar, with a satisfied smirk on her face.

The ride back to King's Cross was rather uneventful, as Harry, Hermione and Daphne sat together, and Daphne, who was blessed with a fabulous storytelling voice, read accounts of magical battles and Harry listened in silence.

**Mangekyo**

"Boy, get in the car and put that freak sword away!" Vernon shouted, attracting large amounts of attention.

Harry threw his trunk into the compartment and closed the passenger door behind him. The Dursleys and Harry drove back to Number Four Privet Drive in silence.

"Put that freak sword away!" Vernon repeated sharply as Harry stepped out of the car.

Harry ignored him, and pulled his trunk from the compartment easily, walking through the front door of Number Four, Privet Drive.

"Boy, we are going to have a talk!" Vernon shouted, his face turning red. "You will not be doing any of that- that freakish nonsense in this home!"

Harry continued to ignore him, but his eyes narrowed.

"Look at me, boy!"

Vernon swung at Harry.

_Crack_. The hilt of the Kusanagi met Vernon's meaty right fist, and snapped a finger.

"Listen here, Uncle Vernon. I don't mind if I sleep in the cupboard under the stairs. I don't mind if you treat me like dirt. But if you seek to harm me physically again, I will draw my _magic_ sword. Now, there are some very nice things about magic. For example, I can create a bowl that never runs out of cold, delicious vanilla ice cream. There are some very wonderful things about magic. I can create a thousand dancing points of light with my wand that will bring hope to a million people in the simplicity of goodness itself. And then, there are some very dangerous things about magic. My sword will refuse to be drawn unless I have the intent to kill someone, and will not return to its sheathe until I've done so. I've drawn it eight times. I'll leave you to your own conclusions."

Harry turned and walked into his cupboard, to insistent shouts that sounded to be partially grunts and partially promises of the confrontation not being over.

**Mangekyo**

"Hello, Mr. Dursley. We are here to see Harry."

"He is not at home", Dudley replied wearily.

It was July Eighth, and over a thousand of these _freaks_ had shown up, with nearly fifty or sixty showing up. At first, Vernon had believed that the several schoolgirls dressed in normal clothing were his _girlfriends_ or something to that extent, and had nearly bought his son beer in congratulations.

But none of them were there for Dudley. They were all there to see Harry Potter. Fortunately, it seemed that his_ cousin _had not invited them, nor had he received them.

But there was something different about these two. They were quite a bit more determined.

"Yes he is", declared the very pretty girl with bushy brown hair.

Dudley looked from the first girl to the other. While the first had been a very plain sort of beauty, the other girl was stunning. The long blond hair that ended just above her stomach glistened in the morning air, and...

Daphne smirked. Harry was right. Illusions were very easy to cast, even without the intensely powerful eyes of his.

"Yes, yes, come in", Dudley whispered, starstruck.

**Mangekyo**

Daphne and Hermione visited every Sunday, and brought him news. Hermione spoke of the new things they researched during the week (Daphne briefed her on the cab ride), and Daphne spoke of the power plays in the Wizengamot.

Harry was rather relaxed, even as he learned at high speeds, and draw hundreds of runes a day. (He was unable to use his wand, and swordsmanship was not a good idea in the Dursley's back garden.)

A crack of Apparition sounded, and Harry looked up, his red eyes spinning, into bulging yellow ones, and jumped in surprise.

"The good wizard Harry Potter-"

"How did you get in here?" Harry shouted, gesturing at the rune arrays he had layered onto the interior walls of his cupboard. They were triple thick, and should have been impenetrable.

The disgusting brown creature looked around. "Harry Potter is a powerful wizard indeed, but he did not ward his home against House Elves. That is how Dobby was able to get into-"

"Who sent you?"

The presumable House Elf, presumably named Dobby shook his head in a manner that would have been comical if Harry wasn't ready to draw his sword at any moment.

"No one sent Dobby. In fact, Dobby will have to punish himself for warning Harry Potter! Harry Potter! Yous must not goes to Hogwarts! Dangerous things are-"

Harry broke in, retorting sharply, "Do you have any idea how important Hogwarts is to my magical-"

"There are dangerous things afoot, Master Harry! That is why Dobby has been keeping yours mail away from-"

"That was you?" Harry wondered, vaguely amused. "Well, at least you're good for someth-"

Dobby immediately started bawling. "Harry Potter is Great Wizard indeed, telling Dobby that Dobby has been good!"

"Shut up!" Harry snarled. "It's too early in the morning for this. If you're going to talk, speak _quietly_. What's so dangerous at Hogwarts that you assumed that keeping my fanmail away-"

"Dobby must not say!" Dobby's volume had not decreased, and his eyes widened even further.

"Listen, if you're not going to give me a good reason not to go back to school, and impede my education, you had better-"

"Dobby must stop you!" Dobby declared.

"Dobby, I advise you from attempting whatever you will. I will not be pleased, and I might end up hurting you very badly. Either you will tell me what's wrong, or you will leave. If you opt not to choose either option, I will not hesitate in hurting you."

There was a long pause in which Dobby stared at his feet, and then he finally nodded, and disappeared with a crack.

Harry watched Dobby disappear with his Mangekyo Sharingan. It appeared that House Elves teleported like he did. While Kamui condensed him into a wave of energy that passed through dimensional rips, House Elves ripped the Space-Time apart, and travelled through them, as physical entities.

"That's got to hurt like _shite_." Harry thought about an infinite amount of quarks piercing his physical body.


	10. The Eyes of An Incompetent Teacher

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter, nor the Mangekyo Sharingan

Lateness: I didn't update for two days because I had an English paper to (sort of) write. It was based off of Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut, and is, technically fanfiction. We had to recreate one of Kilgore Trout (a fictional author in the book)'s work. I chose Jesus and the Time Machine, which is about a man who goes back in time to see Jesus. There's some terrible, terrible irony in it. I might post it when I'm finished.

I'm so sure I just failed my math test on Matrices and Kramer's Rule. -tight life-

**Mangekyo**

It was the beginning of August before Harry decided that he would have to take a trip to Diagon Alley to purchase his newest school books.

He had been entertained greatly every week by the ongoing research he participated in with Daphne and Hermione, but he had promised himself that he would go ahead and learn more about several things, such as the mythical First Blaze that the various history books regarded as the best thing since the invention of a wand.

He wondered for a moment if Professor Binns would do a lesson about it, but it seemed that the school's resident history ghost didn't care about anything but Goblin Wars.

Harry absentmindedly walked into Flourish and Blott's to purchase his new school book and stared down the list.

On the list were a healthy dose of fiction books, and the second level of Transfiguration, Charms and Astronomy textbooks.

Harry had hoped to memorize several runic manuals, but the bookstore was packed. There was a man with blond, wavy hair and a bright smile signing books with a huge quill, talking animatedly, in the back of the bookstore, and literally hundreds of witches were in a bookstore that could only have legally held a quarter that many - legally, of course.

"Is there a Magical Fiction course that Second Years have to take?" Harry asked the bookstore owner.

"I've never heard of such a course. Is it new?" The older man glanced at Harry's book list. "Which books are fiction books."

Harry frowned, and pointed at several items. "All the books by Gilderoy Lockhart. I read them last year. I would have thought that a Magical Fiction course would start with classics like _The Red Demon_ or _Sorcerers of the Hill_ or-"

"Those aren't fiction books, my boy. Those are your Defense Against the Dark- Merlin's beard! Are you Harry Potter?" the man squeaked suddenly, and very loudly.

"Is Harry _Potter_ here?" shouted a witch.

All hell broke loose.

"Is that a _sword_? Of course the Lord of the line of Potter would carry a sword!"

"He's so mature looking!"

"Would you like to go on a date with me?"

Harry blinked several times, rather rapidly, and attempted to walk away.

"You haven't bought your school books yet!" the shopkeeper shouted over the din.

"I was not aware I would be teaching Mr. Potter this year!" the author in the back shouted. Harry picked up a hint of desperation. There were nearly nobody with book-signing needs around the man anymore.

The attention went back to the man, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Then he narrowed his eyes at the Shopkeeper. "My books. Would you please?"

After all, Harry was always polite. There was never a threat in his words, or his demeanor. The threat came from his slight exhalations of magic through his eyes, three parts misery and seven parts shame, subtly changing the emotions of the people around them to feel a certain brand of failure and hopelessness about him. It was never impolite, and kept the majority of the riffraff away from him.

He usually did not utilize that specific ability of his eyes, however, as he remembered very clearly that he had driven one person to commit suicide with a heavy dosage to it. While the man may have been emotionally unbalanced, jumping off a bridge over the Thames was sort of extreme. Harry jumped in after the man and managed to drag him to shore, but the man never got out of the coma.

He felt justified in using it now. As expected, the men and women in the room shrank into themselves as an aura of despair and pure misery leaked from Harry. One man wondered if there were Dementors about Diagon Alley, to chase someone named Black. Harry, who didn't read the paper, decided to look into exactly who this Black fellow was. _Probably a budding Dark Lord, following in the footsteps of Emeric the Evil or Loxias._

He grinned briefly. While he had not seen Daphne's speech with his eyes, he remembered the majority of it with perfect recall. It was _quite_ interesting, after all. He quickly picked up his books, very politely declined free copies of _Magical Me_ from Gilderoy Lockhart, the book signer, and left the store quickly.

He had a different destination in mind.

He walked beyond an ice cream shop, Ollivander's Wands, and several Potions suppliers, before ducking into the seediest area of Magical Britain - Knockturn Alley.

It was quite an area. There were hags hidden in dark corners, selling charmed fingers. The stores that lined the streets sold everything from magical trunks to magical trunks of a different sort. Harry decided that he needed neither the extra space for schoolbooks, nor new underwear, so he sauntered past quickly.

He passed the largest store yet - its storefront was as large as Gringott's, though it wasn't nearly as large within, named Borgin and Burke's, and noticed that the Malfoys were in the store. He made eye contact with Lucius Malfoy, and looked on impassively for a moment. The elder Malfoy's eyebrows shot into his hair, but Harry was gone.

He finally reached his target - a small bookstore that Daphne had listed when she was talking about the acquisition of new tomes. (_There's Flourish and Blott's, of course, the lesser known Bookings, several in the other Alleys connected off of Diagon, and a very small place in Knockturn that specializes in a different perspective on Magical life_.)

He pulled the door open and slipped into the semi-darkness, feeling right at home.

"What do you want?" The question was gruff, but Harry expected it. He could tell that it wasn't every day that a schoolboy with a sword walked into the man's bookstore.

"Books, of course."

The man nodded. "I have books. Books that your parents wouldn't-"

"My parents wouldn't mind, I'm sure of it." A stray beam of light from a grimy window caught Harry's green eyes, and the man pulled in his breath sharply.

"You're Lily's boy."

Harry frowned. "Yes."

"It seems that you take after your mother more, don't you. I'm Paul Simmons, class of Seventy Five. She worked with me on an Arithmancy project about Dark curses. Drove old Professor Vector grey, that paper did. Well, what books will you be having?"

"I need information. Historical information. Politics. Things about the Wizengamot's response to Dark Lords. And knowledge of the First Blaze."

The man stilled for a moment. "There's not much known about it..."

"I know the basics already. The First Blaze passed from Merlin to Godric Gryffindor. It was lost for several hundred years and resurfaced in the hands of Egbert the Egregrious. Egbert the Egregious gave it to Uric the Oddball. Uric the Oddball passed it onto Havelock Sweeting-"

"Sweeting, Withers, Livius Noname, and Dumbledore. Every educated man knows the story of the First Blaze. Of the mechanics, very few men alive can tell you of it."

Harry frowned. Even without the Sharingan activated, he could tell that the man knew exactly what he was talking about.

"I wouldn't normally do this, but being Lily's son, and knowing the basics already, I think I'll tell you a little bit about the Family Blood components. It's not something a lot of people know about outside of the Great Clans, but considering there are no more living Potters, someone has to tell you... Please take a seat."

The man, Simmons, pulled down the blinds, and locked the door, and lit several candles.

He began after a long pause, marshalling his thoughts. "The reason that we are ruled by the Wizengamot is not because they're the wisest or the most just. It is because at some point in the annals of history, they were the most powerful."

Harry blinked.

"There is no denying it. In a world of a Hogwarts Education, it is inconceivable that some Wizards would be substantially better in anything but their direct strengths, right? So why do certain family have seats on the ruling body of the Wizengamot?"

Harry realized that the names chosen for the members of the Wizengamot were rather arbitrary. While families like the Malfoys were rich and well respected, families like the Weasleys were rather poor, and most of them unskilled.

"Let's take the House Bones. Why is House Bones on the Wizengamot and not House Bell? They both came over with the Norman invasion, after all."

"It's because some Wizards have not only stronger blood than another, but different blood. The Potters have a very well documented ability - to heal intense injuries with the use of magic very easily. They also had a lot of it."

Harry nodded. He had realized that when Hermione had no idea what he was talking about the time he asked her to 'pump a bit of magic around' in order to heal a scrape.

"The reason is that each of the Greater Houses have a Bloodline Magic that enhances an ability, or gives them a power that other Wizards have no ability to replicate whatsoever. Some of these are lost Bloodlines - the Greengrass, Fudge and Ogden lines are the most prominent examples. The truth might be that a Wizard from one of those families had a very powerful ability that was unique to that individual, as opposed to the House."

The man took a drink of water from a glass that he retrieved from behind the counter.

"These unique abilities can be transplanted. As you might suspect by now, Merlin had one of them - the First Blaze. He discovered that if he donated a pint of blood and an once of flesh to a student willingly, he could transfer the First Blaze. So that was how Godric Gryffindor came into his power."

"What does the First Blaze do, exactly, besides Phoenix summoning?"

"It allows the wielder to use fire as a Phoenix would, to become one with it, though that is said to be very difficult. But the true power of the First Blaze is not Phoenix speech, or the complete mastery over the burning element. It is the phenomena known as the Trial by Fire, which can lock onto a target, and judge them. If they are found wanting by magic itself, they will be stricken down. Unfortunately, there are several ways to circumvent it. Many wizards have utilized those methods, and I have no reason to believe that Voldemort has not."

"What are these methods?"

"That's not something that should be known. I Obliviated myself of the memories to resist temptation."

Harry stared at him. The man was telling the truth, down to the tightening corners of his mouth that came with the innate worry of having your memories removed.

Harry nodded, and thanked the man, who had discreetly pulled out several books, promisingly entitled _What the Wizengamot Doesn't Want You to Know_, _British Wizarding Relations in the Twentieth Century_, and _The Big Book of Everything a Lord Should Know_.

"Do take a look around. Just be careful around the Dark Arts section. There are some books that will try to convince you to take a gander at them. They're generally not very nice. How old are you anyway, Harry?"

"Twelve."

"You don't act it."

Harry nodded slightly, and looked around, picking out comprehensive guides to less well-known subjects such as Alchemy. He thanked the man, paid twenty galleons or so, and left.

"Smart boy, that one." Simmons began opening his shop back up.

**Mangekyo**

"_Is it, too late, tonight, to drag the past out into the light_?"

A radio was playing a pop song a block away, and Harry was walking through the London night, a hood drawn over his head, and his eyes spinning.

"_And I can't be holding on, to what you've got, when all you've got is hurt..._"

Harry's face slipped for a moment, and the mask he wore shattered. Sorrow caked on his face like mud, as his eyes drew in all the misery of the world, removing it from existence, and projecting it onto him. He bit his lip.

It was getting worse. Ever since his magic had grown stronger, and he had begun to learn Legilimency with Daphne and Hermione (who had a strange aptitude for it), his eyes had become stronger and stronger.

"_Have you come here for forgiveness, have you come to raise the dead. Have you come here to play Jesus, to the lepers in your bed_?"

Harry pulled the misery out of the air as if he were a sponge, and he could feel the old, the homeless, the sick, and the destitute. He became their troubles, their trials, their thoughts.

"_We get to carry each other, we get to... carry each other... Do you here me coming, Lord? Yeah, hear me call. Hear me knocking, knocking at your door... Feel me scratching at your door, feel me scratching, will you make me crawl_?"

Harry walked beyond the range of the radio.

**Mangekyo**

September First dawned without any ceremony, and Harry, who had completely packed the night before. He had perfected a very special technique lately that combined the knowledge of the Kamui and the space-time teleportation that House Elves utilized.

His eyes opened, and they became the Kaleidoscope of the Mangekyo Sharingan. He pulled at a empty air, creating a rip in Space-Time, and stuffed his trunk into it, sealing it away in the all-encompassing space of the sixth dimension.

He briefly toyed with using Kamui to get to school, but decided that riding with his Uncle would not be that bad. He used a quick compulsion to convince his uncle that it was within the large man's best interest to take him to school, and sat down quickly in the backseat.

"Why don't you have your trunk?" Vernon asked, despite himself.

"Not necessary", Harry lied. He didn't want to say the 'M-word' and have to recast the compulsion. After all, there _were_ limits to the effectiveness of his eyes.

**Mangekyo**

"What?"

Harry knew he had rather off-kilter luck. He could bluff eight people in a gambling den with a pair of threes until everyone folded but the man with a pair of an aces... and get a four of a kind. Then he could manage to break an entire carton of eggs just grabbing it on a supermarket shelf, and watch helplessly as the mess spilled all over him.

But having the portal to Platform Nine and Three Quarters simply turn into a normal brick wall of all things was sort of ridiculous. The illusion over the Kusanagi dropped for a moment, and Harry began to weave illusions as fast as he could with his Sharingan in order to keep the Muggles from getting the police involved. He sighed, and pushed his eyes to the next level.

"Mangekyo Sharingan."

It appeared that someone had sewn it shut with a strange collection of multicolored strings of magic which had been invisible to his normal Sharingan. Harry shrugged, concentrated on his experiences with the Kamui, and, layering his hand with magic, ripped through the strings as if they were made of spider silk. It definitely had the same sticky feeling to it, but it gave very easily.

Harry narrowed his eyes, wondering who would do something so utterly stupid, and walked past the barrier.

He ran straight into Dobby the House Elf.

"Harry Potter is a great and powerful wizard indeed, able to break House Elf magic!"

"I ran into a brick wall. The illusion over my sword broke, and I had to compel the various shrieking muggles to believe that nothing was out of the ordinary. Unfortunately, Dobby, I did it too well, and some idiot wondered why they weren't carrying swords too. So I had to craft an illusion that made them believe that they all did, in fact, have swords. Please don't do anything like that ever again."

Harry's eyes widened imperceptibly as Dobby began to hurt himself. It was sort of disgusting, to see a sentient creature punish itself out of two parts conditioning and one part habit. Harry simply walked away, shaking his head. When he looked back, Dobby was still punishing himself.

Harry pulled his trunk out of subspace and pushed it onto the trunk compartment, sitting down at the window, seeking to observe the first years, as well as the changes wrought to the newly Second-Years over the summer.

He didn't have long to wait as people began piling into the station.

"Mangekyo Sharigan."

It appeared that Daphne and Hermione were both quite a bit more observant than he thought they would be. Hermione's parents seemed rather worried when Hermione spotted the figure in the window nearly three hundred feet away. Daphne was alone when she showed up with her trunk, and she scanned the crowd and the train very quickly, then stared straight at him and began marching towards his compartment. Harry wondered if she had seen Hermione's hair, but realized that Hermione had been invisible from the angle that Daphne was approaching from.

"Interesting."

"Say what, Harry?"

"Never mind."

Before Hermione had arrived, Harry committed the First Years who were not on the train yet to memory. There was the Weasley girl, a boy with a very large camera, and a girl with dirty blond hair who seemed to be staring at a rather large Space-Time rip. Harry decided that if she could actually see the rips in Space-Time, she might be useful to have around.

After all, he seemed to be collect friends already.

**Mangekyo**

The train ride was not laden with interaction - it seemed to be a tradition for Harry not to talk much on train rides, but instead of standoffishness, the reason that Hermione was not say much was that Daphne had rested her head on Harry's shoulder once she had entered the compartment. And then she had fallen asleep.

Harry decided that waking the girl would produce louder consequences that simply letting her sleep, and it wasn't as if he were _using_ that shoulder. He opened his mouth several times to speak to Hermione, but she put her fingers over her lips, and pointed at Daphne's sleeping form.

She seemed rather bitter for some reason that Harry could not comprehend, but Harry decided that it was probably because she missed summer already.

Harry and the Sandwich Cart Lady had an interesting conversation consisting of various hand signals and points, which resulted in several chocolate frogs and a pumpkin pasty that Harry knew Daphne liked. Hermione began reading quietly as Harry's finger's absentmindedly found Daphne's hair, and he began playing with it. After several moments, Harry noticed what he was doing, and stopped abruptly. Harry frowned. What had possessed him to do such a thing?

He shrugged, and enjoyed a rare chocolate frog - he didn't eat many sweets.

**Mangekyo**

"I should get another pet snake."

"No you shouldn't."

"I wouldn't mind much."

"Why shouldn't I get a snake, Hermione?"

"She thinks that it would be bad press for you, I think. I don't believe it would have much of an effect. After that stunt you pulled in the Entrance Hall last year..."

"You just want him to get a snake because you're in Slyt-"

"That makes no sense whatsoever."

Hermione turned up her nose. Harry grinned, despite himself, and Daphne smirked in victory.

It had become a rather common occurrence to see Daphne at the Gryffindor table. While some Slytherins had given her trouble for it several months ago, the dissenters' protests stopped immediately after Harry dueled Voldemort, and managed to stab the Dark Lord in the chest.

On a whole, the Gryffindors actually enjoyed Daphne's presence. She was witty, and most definitely not evil, as Ronald Weasley had claimed. Besides, Harry Potter liked her!

"_Lovegood, Luna_!" called the Hat.

Harry looked at the odd girl, and remembered that she had been staring at the Space-Time rips.

"Her family's known for having an overabundance of legitimate seers", Daphne said, rather helpfully.

Harry nodded slightly. "How often do prophecies happen anyway? The single Divination book I looked over didn't talk about Seers, but tea leaves and crystal balls."

"Oh, it could be once in a lifetime, or once a week, depending on the strength of the seer."

"That sounds very unreliable."

"Of course you're right, Hermione. You shouldn't ever trust Prophecies. They have a strange tendency to be both true and what you least expect."

"_Weasley_, _Ginny_!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry began eating the rapidly appearing food, looking forward to a productive year.

**Mangekyo**

Charms class had not changed much. Flitwick still squeaked excitedly when Harry demonstrated Sharingan-enhanced knowledge of charms and spells, and he seemed to expect very much of Harry after the duel with Voldemort.

Harry obliged. Everything Flitwick did, he flashed his Mangekyo Sharingan at, and learned immediately. Spending the rest of the time devoting his time to theory helped him understand the mechanics of the spell, and increased his overall understanding of magic by leaps and bounds.

Likewise, Potions class was not very different. Harry paired himself up with Daphne again, but Hermione worked with another Gryffindor this time around. Snape was more lenient, though he didn't need to be - Harry's potions were generally rather high quality.

Transfiguration class had McGonagall demonstrating more, and the class broke off to work on spellwork every day, but the workload had doubled. Harry bore the extra work that McGonagall gave him with ease - his work ethic was still unparalleled (if you wouldn't count Hermione), and he found that McGonagall seemed to enjoy teaching him ever more than she did before.

History of Magic was uninteresting, considering that he didn't care a whit about Goblin Wars. While they were fought often, the 'wars' were, in truth, short skirmishes in which a Goblin Warrior was tested against a Wizard. With a wand. The Goblins always lost. Binns described the wars to be huge affairs with members of every race in every nation fighting against invading forces of Goblins, but Harry knew better. The Goblins had always aligned themselves neutrally, and didn't attack without extreme purpose anyhow.

By the end of the week, Harry had begun planting Mandrakes - his stunt (which nobody attributed to anyone in the student body, and opted to believe that Heliopaths were the true cause) had killed off all of the old crop, though the Mandrakes were generally sold anyway. Daphne had chosen a huge pair of fluffy pink earmuffs to protect him against the Mandrake's screams, and he had accepted without looking.

But the trials lay ahead.

**Mangekyo**

"Settle down, class, settle down!"

His voice was annoying. His tone was worse. His demeanor was unctuous. And Daphne wanted to take her wand and...

She glanced over at Harry. Harry narrowed his eyes, and nodded in approval as Lockhart handed out "evaluation tests".

She assumed that the tests would be of things they learned the year before, but was suddenly and sorely disappointed.

_Question 1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color_?

She glared at the man. What was he playing at? She guess, and wrote _Blond_ down, and had a private laugh.

_Question 2. With what spell did Gilderoy Lockhart defeat the Wagga Wagga Werewolf_?

She knew the answer. _The Homorph_- Wait. She had seen the charm mentioned in another text before. It was _Transfiguration for Animal Lovers_, a guide to the Animagus transformation.

She wasn't Hermione, nor did she possess a pair of nature-defying eyes, but her recall had always been decent.

_The Homorphus charm is a charm created in Fourteen Thirty Seven and designed to coax a reversal out of a human stuck in a partially Animagus form. Use of this charm has no effect on Werewolves or..._

She knew what the books said. That Gilderoy Lockhart had _wrestled_ a Werewolf. She looked up at the man, who seemed to be rather... flimsy. She nodded once, and decided to toe the line. _The Homorphous Charm_, she wrote down quickly.

Neither Harry nor Hermione were doing so well. Harry had read Lockhart's book without using his eyes, and Hermione had saved the reading of the books for the train. She had been reading the Eight Thousand page treatise known as "Wandless Magic For Beginners. It was _very_ difficult, but she had gotten through it, and was able to perform several spells already.

Hermione had heard very nice things about Lockhart from nearly everyone, and had met the man during a book signing. He seemed genuine enough, prattling on about Banshees to her.

She hadn't known anything about Banshees, but now she knew that he was completely _not_ to be trusted. She stared at the questions.

_Question Forty Eight. What is GIlderoy Lockhart's greatest ambition_?

She growled, in a manner that she remember Harry did when he faced down the Cerberus. The various Gryffindors around her shivered.

Harry, however, was ineffably polite. He smiled graciously and thanked Lockhart for the test. The only indication of exactly how annoyed he was were his mannerisms.

Narrowed eyes, check. Daphne nodded. That was to be expected. Harry narrowed his eyes often.

Double blink, check. Hermione bit her lip. Harry was legitimately angry now.

Extremely tight grip over his sword? Daphne raised her hand. "Professor, may I be excused?"

"Sure thing, Ms..."

"Greengrass", Daphne replied smoothly, and she quickly left the room.

Hermione had raised her hand too, but Daphne had been a bit more conspicuous that she had been.

"Professor, is this test an accurate assessment of what we will cover this year?"

Harry's voice was soft, and deadly. Neville decided that Harry sounded a lot like Snape when he was angry. He may not have picked up on the cues that Daphne and Hermione did, but he suddenly remembered that Harry's voice had been _exactly_ the same tone it was before he jumped down and confronted Voldemort in the act of torturing Professor Flitwick.

"Why yes, of course, my boy!"

"Will this material be on our O.W.L.s?"

"Well..."

"Will you be giving supplemental lessons in order to prepare us for the two most important exams in our lifetimes?"

"I might have thought that..."

"Say, what are your qualifications anyway, _Professor_?"

Harry was irrationally angry. He had given the School the benefit of the doubt, and they had screwed him two years in a row.

"Well, I'm a celebrated-"

"Novelist? I wasn't aware that Novelists could duel? Do show us some of the moves you used to _wrestle_ the Wagga Wagga Werewolf, _sir_."

"Sure, if you would step down and assume the role of the Werewolf, I'll-"

"Oh, I don't think that will be necessary." Harry smirked. The man had fallen for it, hook, line and sinker. He pointed his wand at a desk, and slowly forced his magic through it.

The desk grew in size. His transfiguration may not have been smooth like McGonagall's, but it was effective. His visualization process was fantastic, even compared to the most creative of wizards.

He quoted the book directly. "_And the Werewolf was twelve feet tall, with fangs larger than my arms, and claws that could take off your head in a single swipe_."

Harry grinned, and the 'werewolf' bound at Lockhart.

The man gave a girlish scream as the werewolf chased him out of the classroom, and continued screaming until he tripped down the stairs and landed in heap at Albus Dumbledore's feet.

"My, my, Gilderoy. What has befallen you now?"

Dumbledore looked up, and saw a twelve-foot high werewolf staring him down, shrugged, and walked away. "That looks mightily like the description of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf. Please protect my school from it, Gilderoy."

Lockhart moaned.

**Mangekyo**

"That was a tad overboard, Harry", Hermione scolded, but she couldn't help but laugh.

The Second Years were crowded on the banister overlooking the staircase, where the Werewolf was giving half-hearted swings, and Lockhart was yelping and jumping out of the way, tripping over his own feet multiple times.

McGonagall was actually explaining the Transfiguration process to her Fifth-Year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw classes. She ended up creating another one out of a small quill, and it immediately began battling Harry's 'Werewolf'. Lockhart managed to get away, and people winced as the transfigured beasts tore into each other.

"This is _so_ cool", someone sighed dramatically.

Harry was more interested in how the transfigured construct seemed to have gained sentience, because he was definitely not directly it via the small golden Legilimenic strings that McGonagall was using.


	11. The Eyes of a Frozen Cat

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter, nor the Mangekyo Sharingan

Warning: Luna Lovegood. She deserves a warning all to herself, just for existing. She's just awesome like that.

**Mangekyo**

_16 years._

_16 years of this... Miserable existence._

The girls sat to either side of them, and when they blinked in unison, their consciousness' blended.

The blond girl had her hands clasped in a prayer like position, and when he saw through her eyes, he understood the majesty of the Earth itself.

The brunette had her left hand over her right wrist. Her right hand was clutching something that was only tangible to her. When he saw through her eyes, he felt the thousand hammer falls of justice.

Nature, Justice, and Misery.

Yet they all fought for the same cause.

_We... we will resonate the revolutionary rhythm._

_We... we will break the bars that hold down the oppressed._

_We... we will send to hell those who dare... those who dare to chain us._

**Mangekyo**

Luna Lovegood woke abruptly. This wasn't the first vision she'd had of the future. No - she had dreamed of both her mother's death, and her sorting. But this was different it that it didn't involve her.

It was much clearer. There was a burning sense of purpose behind the vision. It was also the first time she experienced three sides to a single vision, three humans who'd become-more, their auras glowing like falling stars even as they sat and thought.

People who held the world in their hands, and were unafraid to reshape it.

She was scared.

**Mangekyo**

Routine. It may have been the bane on the existence of lesser wizards, or simply students in general, but Harry loved routine. It made study so much easier. There was so much to look forward to in a normal day. He felt himself _improve_. It was so easy to make progress when there were no special events that needed immediate attention.

It was October, and he had finally drummed up enough nerve to...

"Mangekyo Sharingan..." Harry paused for a moment, and then,

"Susano'o!"

Nothing happened. He shook his head. Slytherin's Totsuka seemed to be beyond him. He stared at the Kusanagi, in his left hand, and wondered if the sword had the latent magic necessary to sabotage him.

"_Wake up_!" Harry yelled in Parseltongue.

The sword didn't respond.

"_I'm about to summon Totsuka_!" he shouted.

The sword woke, and hissed malevolently.

"_Actually, that's not true. I don't know how to activate Susano'o_. _I'm asking for your help here._"

Harry didn't know that it was possible for a sword to _sigh_, but it did, a breathy whisper of Parseltongue.

"_The Storm God will only aid you in a fight, not in training. You must find another way to cut the Sake, as you have found a way to cut the Grass._"

"_My, how philosophical_!" Harry snapped.

"_I'm several thousand years old. I have the right to it._"

Harry just shook his eyes.

**Mangekyo**

"Hermione. Where can I get a jar of Sake?"

"Harry? We're here to help you. Drowning your problems in alcohol is not healthy, especially not at-"

"Who said anything about alcohol? I just want a jar of Sake. I figured you might know-"

"Where to get you a jar of Japanese spirits?"

"Sake is-"

"Harry", Hermione paused for a moment, and smiled. "You amuse me." She turned away. "I'm going to get some lunch."

Harry stared bemusedly at her retreating back, a million and more thoughts flashing through his mind.

**Mangekyo**

"Professor Flitwick, where may I obtain a jar of Sake?"

Professor Flitwick, who was chomping on an apple cobbler, sprayed it all over his entirely-too-large desk.

"Harry, you don't need that at this age, you can always..."

**Mangekyo**

"Professor McGonagall, can you teach me how to conjure Sake?"

Her nostrils flared. "Harry James Potter! Your mother would be rolling around in her..."

**Mangekyo**

"Professor Dumbledore, I heard you were a Transfiguration teacher once."

"That's correct, my boy", Dumbledore beamed.

"Can you teach me how to conjure something? Professor McGonagall wouldn't..."

"Sure, there's no harm in a bit of conjuration."

"Thanks Professor!" Harry gave a relieved smile. "Conjuration's about visualization and knowledge of the substance, right? Can you describe to me the properties of-"

"Yes, of course! You're among the brightest Second-Years that I've had to teach. Pay no mind to an old man's ramblings, Harry. Go on!"

"Sake."

"S-sake?" Dumbledore choked on his lemon drop.

**Mangekyo**

"Why does everyone think that I'd drink the Sake that I conjure, Daphne? Do I seem like the type to partake in binging?"

"No, but I could see it selling papers. The Boy Who Lived is a Secret Drinker. Or something to that effect."

"I hate you, Daphne."

Daphne felt inordinately pleased. Harry was never one to hand out endearments. The fact that he could joke with her on such an elementary level meant good things. At least she hoped so.

**Mangekyo**

"Professor Lockhart, sir... Is that a bottle of _vodka_?"

He was infallibly polite, of course. Inquisitive, but polite.

Lockhart blushed.

"Now, now, what would your readers think of that?" Daphne chastised.

Lockhart blanched.

"We'll be on our way, but we've actually come for a little bit of a favor, Professor."

"But now that you seem to be mildly busy, I guess we'll go to, say, Professor Dumbledore, instead." Harry spoke in an earnest tone, as if he were actually concerned about Lockhart's time.

"Oh, but that would be a shame, Harry. Professor Dumbledore always wants us to talk about our day. About every single interaction we've had with teachers, to get a feel for the school's _dynamics_."

Harry smirked. Daphne was so masterfully cunning. Her beautiful smile and the innocent lilt she had certainly helped. He blinked. _Where had _that_ come from_? He narrowed his eyes.

"What do you want?" Lockhart sighed rsignedly.

"Can you tell me the difference between Vodka and Sake?"

Lockhart blushed again. "I-I've never had Sake."

**Mangekyo**

"_Rip. Tear. Kill_."

"I'm so tired that I'm hearing things. I'm going to go to sleep."

The little voice seemed to be coming from everywhere at once, bouncing around inside his skull. For a moment, he wondered if his sword were playing tricks on him.

**Mangekyo**

Harry stood with an ear against the wall, creeping slowly along. It was October the Thirty First, and the magic of the wards were amplified in terms of power, but dampened in terms of effect. The built in silencing charms had cracks in them, and he could hear slithering in the walls. He walked down the flight of stairs to the second floor, and followed the languid motions of a snake.

The snake sped up for a moment, and then stopped. Harry walked a bit faster, only pressing his ear to the wall every three seconds or so.

He suddenly felt a huge magical discharge come from around the corner. He fingered his wand with his left hand, and put his right hand on his sword's hilt, and slowed down.

Then he heard extremely quick footsteps. He knew, then, that whoever it was, had left a crime scene of some sort.

He quickly rounded the corner, and noticed a pale hand clutching a diary jump into a secret passageway. Harry blinked twice. That particular passageway branched into eight other passageways, giving it the moniker "The Artery". It was another one that everyone above third year had used more than twenty times. Whoever had jumped into it would be long gone if he decided to follow her.

At least, he was pretty sure it was a her. The hand was rather delicate, and boys generally didn't write in diaries.

He turned around and froze in shock.

Hanging from a wall sconce was a dead cat that could only have belonged to the school Caretaker. Next to it was a message, apparently written in blood (though Harry thought it smelled of chickens), which proclaimed, "Enemies of the Heir Beware".

Harry pulled out his wand with his right hand, letting go of the Kusanagi's hilt, and blinked twice.

"Mangekyo Sharingan."

When he realized that the cat was not actually dead, he began casting diagnostic charms on everything in the corridor that looked a bit out of place.

While he was in the process of casting, the school's resident Poltergeist, Peeves appeared. It took one look at the stiff cat, and began screaming, "POTTER'S MURDERED MRS. NORRIS! BEWARE THE HEIR OF SLYTHERIN!"

Harry wondered vaguely if that was actually what 'the Heir' was, but he was too deep into his diagnostic charm to ask.

Immediately, twenty or so students appeared from all directions, and an excitable Gilderoy Lockhart charged at Harry, waving his wand wildly.

Harry had long deactivated his Sharingan, and even as he completed his diagnostic charm, he sidestepped Lockhart, and hit him in the back with his sheathed sword, sending him careening into the abandoned girl's bathroom.

By this point, Flitwick and McGonagall had shown up, wands blazing, and staring in horror, but they quickly calmed when Harry called out to them.

"Professor, I just did a Tellian Diagnostic of the surrounding area. The water has ectoplasm in it, and it's just chicken blood. The cat is petrified, by a snake of some kind, I think - that's what the signature is telling me. This happened around three minutes before I got here. I was tracking the snake in the walls..."

It was equal parts scientific and decriminating. Harry thought he did a great job.

**Mangekyo**

I'm obliged to add an Author's Note, because this is a relatively short chapter.

I just didn't want to do the whole series of Petrifications or Christmas in this chapter, nor did I want to advance Harry's powers just yet.

So I cut it off here. I hope I didn't disappoint anyone _that_ badly.

It's just that it's been a long day, and while I promised to update, only half of what I'd written had any semblance of quality. So I dumped the bits that had Harry stabbing little girls, and the bits that had Harry having a staring contest with the Basilisk.

Not to say that it's never going to happen.

I don't know what ship to put this under for the Character 1/Character 2 thing. I'm inclined to believe that more people would be exposed to it if I put H/Hr, but it's more H/Daphne at the moment. (While I may have had a poll, the relationship stuff might be subject to changes. Ch-ch-ch-changes. David Bowie? Yeah. David Bowie.)

Since I'm cutting this short, I guess I'll give you a slight preview...

_Harry stared at the small bottle of Sake, wondering how to pull a sword of all things out of it, as his Kusanagi leaned against a desk._

"_Mr. Potter! What are you doing with that?"_

_Harry looked up. Professor McGonagall was staring straight at him._

_He knew that asking the House Elves for alcohol would be a bad idea._

Stay tuned for the Double Rasen- errr, Posting on Sunday. And no, I'm not actually dropping a hint. Harry will not be learning the Rasengan. It's so overdone, despite it's awesomeness.


	12. The Eyes of the Afflicted

JayGray: Thanks for leaving me so many reviews. I'm, for the record, one guy. I like to think my writing's getting better daily, though. And I'm not confirming your guess.

**Mangekyo**

Harry: You have no excuse.

Jon: Harry, please, give me another chance! I'll update! I swear on it!

Harry (blinking twice): You had a day off yesterday.

Jon: Harry, it's not like that. I was busy working on-

Harry (gripping sword tightly): A Thousand Hands? The Immortal Eyes? Darker Lord? Don't lie to me. I know when you're lying.

Jon: No, I had-

Harry (speaking softly): Are you going to tell me you were studying? I fail to see how reading bad crossover fics would be considered studying. Mangekyo Sharingan.

Jon: No. Please, d-don't-

Harry: Tsukuyomi. And for the record, you don't own me. You never will. You don't own the Sharingan in any form. You never will. And if you don't update, I'll teach you the true meaning of fear.

**Mangekyo**

There had been two more Petrifications since Halloween. They had both been Muggleborn students, and each time, a more militant and disturbing message had been written down. Harry quickly told Dumbledore that it was a Basilisk that was the cause of it, and suggested breaking down a bit of the wall, and dropping several bags of roosters at dawn in order to kill the Basilisk, but he concluded, after an hour long lecture complete with twenty or so diagrams, that the wards couldn't be penetrated in such a fashion.

Harry likened the Hogwarts wards to single circuit Christmas Lights - when one blew, there was no force on earth that could keep the other pieces of the wards working. Considering that the majority of the nasties in the Forbidden Forest were kept away by the Wards, breaking a chunk off, and causing a Cascading Collapse was a pretty bad idea.

It was under these circumstances that Lockhart had decided that everybody needed Dueling lessons. Harry sighed. On the off chance that you could teach First and Second years to duel, Flitwick or McGonagall would be the Professors to go to. Snape definitely fought dirty and more than a little Dark, and Sprout's spells (judging from the Entrance Hall fiasco) seemed to be mostly prepared Herbological runic enchantments.

Harry, Hermione and Daphne walked into the Great Hall, where a Dueling Pit had been set up.

The Dueling Pit had been named by the Romans - their Heads of Houses would go to Wizarding Colosseum to watch wizards fire deadly spells at one another. Since the Romans barely knew anything about wards, and were, instead, masters of architecture, they created pits in which the wizards could duel without hurting any of them.

The modern day Dueling Pit was in actuality a very long catwalk, with one wizard on either end. Runes were inscribed all along the side of it to absorb even the Killing Curse (though it would destroy bits of the platform per cast, and the enchantment would fail after a while).

Gilderoy Lockhart stood at one end, and on the other was... Professor Snape. Harry's smirk turned into a full-blown grin.

Lockhart grandstanded for several minutes as Snape looked on with such a hate-filled sneer that even Harry blanched for a moment.

"_Expelliarmus_!" The red jet of light flew out of Snape's wand, and nailed Lockhart in the face. Lockhart flew back, actually spinning through the air, and he collided with the back wall. Surprisingly, the man was able to get up afterwards.

"N-now now. That was some excellent spell work by Professor Snape. Now, I'll show you the Sh-shield charm."

Lockhart twirled his wand in a way that Harry had never seen the Shield charm performed. In fact, it sort of resembled Flitwick's Ice Sp-

A weak icicle flew out of Lockhart's wand, and impaled the man in the foot. Lockhart screamed in pain.

"Not much of a shield charm, is it?" Hermione guffawed.

"Harry, my boy! Why don't you come up and have a demonstration duel!" Once again, Lockhart had managed to recover nearly instantaneously.

Snape curled his lip, and smirked knowingly at Harry. "I suppose Potter is... adequate. Draco!"

Harry nodded very slightly at Snape. He knew the man was giving Draco a chance to fail. It was further confirmed by a Legilimenic message that left the older man's eyes. _Humiliate him._

Harry stepped up to the Dueling platform. Draco Malfoy mirrored his actions, and then shouted over the Pit. "I'm going to send you crying to your _mummy_, Potter!"

Harry narrowed his eyes, and plunged his sheathed sword into the ground in front of him, then drew his wand. "Go on, _Draco_."

"_Expelliarmus_!"

Harry watched as the jet of red light flew through the air, sailing at his chest. He concentrated on his Charge Step and drove all his magic towards the point. The red light hit him, and it leaked off of him as if it were a liquid, and dissipated.

Harry returned fire with a very, very small fireball. Draco scrambled out of the way, but barely managed to dodge it. As he did, Harry released the tight control he had over the flame, and it flared to life, singing Malfoy's eyebrows. The other wizard yelped, and Snape smirked.

"Winner, Harry!" shouted Lockhart. Malfoy glared at the man. He had secretly hoped to use one of his more dangerous spells, for the purposes of snake-summoning, but Harry had left the pit already. Draco's face was sullen. Greengrass' patronizing smile grated his nerves.

**Mangekyo**

"That was a joke."

Harry nodded.

"It wasn't a joke! It was _very_ cathartic to actually give Parkinson a pug nose", said Hermione.

"Most of it was morale boosting. People are scared about the Heir of Slytherin business. No one knows what else House Slytherin is capable of besides Parseltongue and the associated Parselmagic."

"Well, I know that Salazar Slytherin himself had eyes like mine."

Daphne and Hermione both looked at Harry sharply.

"Explain?" asked Hermione.

"Well, when I picked up the Kusanagi, it told me about Salazar. As you know, the Kusanagi was liberated overseas. After a while, it told me how. Apparently, Slytherin left a memory in the sword as proof of his power."

**Mangekyo**

_The man could not be called handsome by any stretch of the imagination. He wasn't ugly per se, but he had a face that was so forgettable, it was almost memorable._

"_We need real swords." A man to the right of the first man had spoken up. He was Godric Gryffindor, the brash, brawny and beautiful best friend of Salazar. He was the opposite in many ways, but they were more alike than either chose to admit._

_Of the seventy four duels they had participated in over the past fifteen years, Salazar had won thirty nine (two were technical victories). Salazar was a shade brighter with his wand, but Godric outclassed him in terms of swordplay. They were Merlin's most promising students, and they had seen the legend that made the man, and learned that his powers exceeded that of his legends._

_Yet they walked different paths. Merlin had encouraged both of them equally, but in the end, he had given Godric the First Blaze. The old Archmage had claimed that the phoenixes would have enjoyed Godric's company more, and that he must be mindful of their choices._

_Godric was contrite. Salazar, was, after all, a tad better with magic that he was, and his existence was defined by his loyalty and bravery - traits that were better for Mage Knights than Mages. In truth, Godric was more of a magic-wielding Paladin of the Realm, and Salazar rapidly approached the mantle of the Sage. Godric was, after all, better than most knights with his sword and lance, while Salazar had accumulated more knowledge than anyone but Merlin and their mutual friend Rowena._

_Salazar was resentful. While Merlin had left him nearly his entire collection, the spells in there would have interested Godric more. They were showy, creating huge bursts of light and raining divine fire and judgment on their enemies. He was more subtle, preferring a spell that could stop a heart as opposed to piercing it._

"_Where do you propose we find real swords? The dwarves are long gone. Two hundred years, if the old Master hadn't become senile."_

_Godric frowned. "I was thinking that the Goblins could-"_

"_Absolutely not! Making a deal with a Goblin is only slightly less-"_

"_Slightly less demanding than a deal with a Demon. I know. What I mean to do is to win a sword from them."_

"_Who in their right mind would challenge you to a sword fight, or accept for that matter?"_

"_Which Goblin would be the proudest of them all?"_

"_The director of Gring- No. No. No no no no no no no no. You will not challenge Ragnok the Eighth to a duel for his sword. That sword is the Goblin Father's sword. The Crimson Ruby of Ragnok the First. You will-"_

"_Do you realize that I didn't know anything about the little bugger's sword, title, name or anything until you told me? Now I want that sword-"_

"_Even more. It's you funeral. I'll like to see you get in there alive, let alone out, especially if you get the sword."_

"_Well, Rowena's just invented something called a Portkey. When you say the password - mine's going to be Salazar, because you're not important enough for me to mention in an everyday conversation, it'll take you to the Castle Grounds."_

"_Would you just give this up? We're going to be opening this damn school in less than five years."_

The memory dissolved into another one.

"_I won it!" Godric promptly collapsed. He had over thirty wounds on his body. His right hand was clenched around the Crimson Ruby, he was grinning deliriously, even as Helga began healing him, and Rowena ran her hands through her silvery blond hair with a manic worry. Salazar shook his head and summoned his entire Potions kit, and began brewing an invention of his known as the Blood Replenisher, as well as a very tricky Anti-Infection potion that Merlin had given him the recipe to._

_Salazar shook his head and sighed. Godric had one-upped him again. It seemed to be happening more and more since Godric had received the First Blaze, and Master had been killed by the no-good piece of donkey stool Antioch Peverell. He had tracked down the man's brother Cadmus and relieved the younger man of his two most precious possession despite all odds (and had his left arm burned off), but Godric had cloven Antioch twain, at no damage to himself. Little Ignotus, the two legend's youngest brother, had escaped into the night, as a sewer denizen. Salazar snorted. If he were a Rat Animagus, he would have killed himself, but he supposed his affinity for snakes had colored his judgment._

_Now Godric had somehow retrieved the Crimson Ruby of Ragnok the First. That was why, after Godric was healed, and the four of them had put enough enchantments on the sword to keep it from ever belonging to Goblins, or anyone without Godric's traits and blood, Salazar buried himself in several scrolls that Merlin had left him about legendary swords._

_He had finally narrowed down the list to two swords. There was King Arthur's Excalibur, which was the only sword in England which could top the Crimson Ruby. It could heal the wielder, and provide magical boosts at the 'darkest hour', as Lord Pendragon's messy scrawling had boasted. _

_He had searched Lake Avalon already, but realized that the Lady must have taken the Excalibur back into the realm of the Fae, who were undoubtedly more powerful than him. It made it onto his list of three last resorts._

_They were the Crocea Mors, which was held by the spirit of Caesar, and had killed everyone who had touched it but Merlin, who countered the curse with his sheer power. He doubted that he had a tenth as much power as Merlin did in the older Archmage's prime. There was the Chandrahas, the Moon-Blade of the Sri Lankan Islands, but the trials required meant that he'd have to sacrifice a piece of his magic permanently. The very idea left a bad taste in his mouth. The last was the Sword of Goujian, but that was guarded by eight thousand Shaolin monks on a good day. He doubted that his Portkey would work in the face of the Li Sou's magic-disrupting Five-Shaped fist. _

_He shuddered as he considered his last option. The other sword on his list was just as powerful, if not more satisfying, than any of the others, despite it's lack of power compared to the Crocea or the Goujian, or the gap in magical potential to the Chandrahas or Excalibur. It was known as the Ama-no-Marakumo-no-Tsurugi in some texts and as the Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi in others. It belonged, currently, to the Heian Emperor Sujin, and was the one of the more powerful swords in the East._

_It was very sharp, and it was coated in very powerful, paralytic poison. But what interested Salazar was that it not only had the ability to speak to snakes, but it complimented one of the spoils of wars he had plundered from the corpse of Cadmus Peverell. It was the natural companion, bitter enemy, and favorite rival of the Totsuka, the Sword of Susano'o._

With this revelation, the memory dissolved yet again, fading into the third and final memory.

_Salazar had managed to cross the grounds of Emperor Sujin's palace, and was now running through the halls, his hands flashing with magic, and his eyes spinning in a Kaleidoscope._

I'm running so fast you would think I was the one chasing them_, he thought, as his wand poked his thigh. (It was tucked slightly beneath his stomach._

_He had a sudden vision for a moment, and the Fates screamed in his ears, "Run! If you peddle mind-altering potions in Academy Lands. Run! If you're pursued with a lack of footwear! Run! Fornicate with it! Aurors have Wands!"_

_He briefly wondered what Aurors were, why anyone would be disgusting, trashy or mean enough to peddle mind-altering potions to students and what running had to do with fornication, then snapped out of his daze, avoiding a bright blue spell that ate away at the wall behind him narrowly._

_He was quite lucky, he thought - of the three hundred imperial guards, only ten were actively chasing him. The others were moving through secret passageways to defend the Emperor, expecting that he'd attempt an assassination. It had been his plan all along. The Kusanagi was stored in the Ceremonial Chamber, in the East Wing. The Emperor's Quarters were in the West Wing, so he met minimal resistance._

_Or that would have been the case if the Emperor was not practicing his swordsmanship at the moment._

_He burst into a room full of Imperial Guards and a high throne where the Emperor Sujin sat with the Kusanagi clutched in his right hand. The men screamed spells in rapid Japanese, and as the wave of spells headed at him, Salazar knew he had little to no ability, even with his agility, to dodge them all. Considering that the majority of the spells were unknown to even him (and he knew nearly ten thousand spells), he decided that he'd use his last resort._

_For a moment, time stood still as the foreigner, dressed in the garb of a Shinobi (a loose black shirt, a flak jacket, and loose black pants), but fought like a Samurai (with roars and extremely powerful magical discharges), roared out the name of the Storm God._

"_Susano'o!"_

_First an ethereal green mist formed into a skeletal cage around the man, bleeding forth from his spinning red and black eyes. Then it grew in size, forming smoky green muscles, and looking for all the world like flames. They absorbed all the spells thrown at it easily._

"_Totsuka!"_

_Silver mist leaked out of Salazar's left eye and formed into the shape of a sake jar, and Salazar's right hand drew a sword the same shape and size of the Emperor's Kusanagi. It didn't gain any corporeality, but it looked very intimidating. It was proven when Salazar slashed outwards, catching several men unawares, and they fell to the ground, without a visible wound in sight, shivering in ecstasy._

_The Emperor (who was, by far, a better warrior than his guards), lunged with the Kusanagi, but Salazar parried. The Grass-cutting Sword met its equal at the Sake-cutting sword's hands, and with clangs from one end and a watery swish from the other, Sujin and Salazar danced, their swords flashing in a display of skill that the men were awed to realize._

_They were both hard-pressed to win. The Emperor may have been a shade more skillful than even Godric Gryffindor, but the Susano'o's skeleton provided a defense that he had yet to penetrate. Salazar was still a better match than anyone he had encountered before, and the only person who could match his Kusanagi. While Sujin may have had more experience than Salazar (being thirty years older than the challenger), he didn't expect Salazar's next trick._

"_Amaterasu!"_

_The burning black Flames of the Lady of Heaven may have been extinguished against the flashing Kusanagi, but the Emperor felt the intense heat of the technique, which nagged at his extreme concentration._

"_Tsukuyomi!"_

_The Emperor managed to look away just in time, and Salazar's left eye began to bleed. Salazar cursed. He doubted that he had the strength to use either of the attacks again. The Susano'o had drained the majority of his power._

_Then he realized it in a moment of glorious, tired epiphany. Drawing the Totsuka had taken no magic whatsoever. Which would mean that logically, the final power of the Susano'o would not either._

"_Yata!"_

_The Emperor's eyes widened almost comically. If Salazar had taken the time to learn Japanese, or cast the Translation Charm that Rowena had invented, he would have learned quite a bit of trivia about how the Yata Mirror had been lost for centuries, and of its fearsome powers, but he had not. He still figured it out though, when it blocked the Kusanagi, and he drove the Mirror-turned-shield into the Emperor's chest, surprising the older man, and lifting him off his feet._

_The Kusanagi flew out of the Emperor's grasp with a defeated hiss. Salazar responded with a victorious one, and grabbed it out of the air, and closed his eyes, deactivating both the Susano'o and his Mangekyo Sharingan._

"_Godric", he whispered, and his Portkey activated, pulling him through thousands of miles with the Kusanagi's hilt in his left hand. He landed in the newly Christened Hogwart's infirmatary._

"_I have a cool sword too, Godric!" he shouted triumphantly, as Rowena and Helga began to forcefeed him healing potions. Rowena was pulling at her hair again. Helga was tutting faintly, and Godric was starin at the sword admiringly._

"_D-don't touch the blade", Salazar gasped as he fought for air against the eight potions that Helga was trying to pour down his throat at once, the strawberry taste of a Magic Replenishing potion clotting in his throat._

"_Why not?"_

"_It's poisoned, and very, very sharp! One touch will cut, and I haven't analyzed it yet, so you'll probably die!"_

_Godric's hand pulled back very quickly._

The memory ended, and Harry, Hermione and Daphne opened their eyes.

"That's a lot to think on", Daphne said, quietly, as Hermione began writing down everything she remembered about the memories furiously.

"Yeah. I know that the Sharingan is a Peverell Bloodline, or something to that effect, and that Ignotus was missing, so I'm possibly related to Ignotus somehow, through my mother. I think I know how to summon the Susano'o, but not being able to see it activate under the Mangekyo is a clear disadvantage."

"I guess that's why you wanted a jar of Sake so badly. One sword wasn't enough", Hermione joked, leaning in utter exhaustion into Harry as she finished her notes.

To her surprise, Harry pulled her closer. She let the shocked expression slide off her face quickly, and decided that she'd enjoy it while it lasted. There was an off chance that Harry didn't notice, and had done it in instinct.

**Mangekyo**

Daphne and Hermione left for Christmas break again, and Harry was left alone, practicing Occlumency in the privacy of his bed, Legilimency on unsuspecting Hufflepuffs, swordsmanship on hapless wooden training dummies, and Elemental magics on unlucky suits of armor, which always seemed to reform after he destroyed them the next day.

He felt the beginnings of pride stirring in his stomach. His magical core had surpassed McGonagall's. While it was still far from Flitwick's, and impossibly far from Dumbledore's (and likely Voldemort's true form as well), knowing that he could probably do everything the Deputy Headmistress could do (if he could see it beforehand), was no small achievement.

He paused to think of Daphne and Hermione. Daphne's spellwork could easily compare to an N.E.W.T. student's, and her dueling was dirty, underhanded and thoroughly effective. She had somehow convinced Snape of all people to teach her for fifteen minutes a week on the side, and the things she learned (like the host of particularly nifty long-term spells that blurred the opponent's vision, or lit their robes on fire erratically) were downright devious. Harry had no illusion about her ability to actually take down a seventh year, as her magical core was like that of a fourth year's.

Hermione was less powerful. For now. But when she passed the transition to an adult witch, she would be formidable beyond belief. Her analytical mind could process hundreds of spells in a way the Sharingan could not - Harry found that he only remember spells if he thought of them. While his spells were generally of better quality when he recalled them, his recall wasn't great. He relied heavily on the Elements and his eyes to both outlast and slip past the opponent, breaking their defenses down and striking (hopefully) critical blows. She was _creative_ in a way that kept even his Mangekyo Sharingan spinning at full speeds, shooting spells that had unique usages in such a way that they chained together naturally and created extreme havoc. She would be the best duelist in the world if she had a Sharingan, Harry decided.

He had received a very long letter about dueling from the Auror Trainee Tonks, who had nearly quoted her hero and mentor Alastor 'Mad-eye' Moody, a grizzled old ex-Master Auror ad verbatim.

He learned that there were five pillars of dueling style. The first was Power. The inexperienced generally relied on it to cast their strongest curses and charms to overwhelm an opponent, though a powerful wizard like Flitwick, the tactic was very effective.

The second was Speed. The spry, and young, generally use it to dodge spells and strike blows against the unprepared. Harry knew that his style was very easily speed-based. The Charge-step and Turbo-mode were pinnacle examples of the devastation that an intensely fast wizard could cause, allowing him to duel even Voldemort on a slightly even playing field, and stab him with the Kusanagi.

The third was Skill. Through a lot of practice, a wizard like McGonagall could make up for her lack of extreme power and moderate speed by simply learning all the counters to things and practicing them to perfection. Harry realized that it would be years until his skill rivalled his teacher's.

The fourth was Devices. They were, apparently, generally unused during most duels, but in the hands of the famous Prewett Twins, Fabian and Gideon, who were mediocre in Power, rather slow, and not very practiced, had earned them the third highest kill and capture count in the Order of the Phoenix during the last War. Harry's only working example was the prepared rune slips that Sprout had used to transfigure conjured spikes into living Venomous Tentacula. Harry decided that this was his lowest priority, but his interest in runes kept leading him back to Devices.

The fifth, and final pillar was Bloodlines. Whether they were the natural Occlumenic ability of the Prince family, or the Metamorphic qualities of the Black family, or even the First Blaze of the Leader of the Light, they presented very powerful advantages to anyone who had access to them. They were the only magical skills that could not be trained, nor did they increase over time. Harry grinned at this. His Mangekyo Sharingan represented one of the strongest Bloodlines of all time, despite its rarity.

**Mangekyo**

It was Christmas Eve, and Harry was walking through the poorer sections of London again.

He stared at a girl who looked strikingly similar to Daphne - she could have been Daphne's sister, or cousin, who looked to be not three years older than him. She was dressed in skimpy underclothes, with a ratty overcoat draped over her frame.

Harry nearly cried blood. Could this have been Daphne's fate if she had been born to a poor family without magic?

He walked up to her.

"You're a bit young, but", she paused. Her ribs were showing. Her stomach growled slightly, but Harry's hearing was superb. "Tw-twenty pounds, if you want to..."

She displayed her assets. Harry nodded, and she dragged him into a small, dirty flat. Harry's eyes picked up several cockroaches and a rat.

She looked like she was about to cry as she removed her overcoat. Harry shook his head, and gave her a twenty pound note, and a hug.

He noticed a lession of some sort on the back of her neck. "What's this?" he asked, tenderly.

The girl began crying as she unhooked her dirty, worn bra. "I-I should have told you before, but... I have", she gave a choked sob. "AIDs. I'll... I'll pay you b-back if you-"

"No, it's fine. I don't intend to sleep with you anyway." Harry smiled, and he turned her around slowly, nearly bumping his disillusioned sword resting against the side of the bed. "Shhh. It's Christmas Eve. Can you hear the angels?"

His eyes flashed red as he pumped magic through the lession, willing it to destroy every little remnant of the disease. As he worked, the girl grew warmer, and more agitated.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Shhh, don't move. I swear I'll do nothing to hurt you or harm you."

The girl gulped, and wondered if the boy was insane. She felt another rush of internal warmth, one that she hadn't felt since getting the accursed disease.

Harry's magic coursed through her, and Harry realized that he was actually losing a small piece of talent permanently. He didn't care. Today was Christmas Eve.

His magic saturated every cell, every pore, every lession, and dissolved a small, developing tumor that was undoubtedly a result of Kaposi's sarcoma. The girl was in a very advanced stage of A.I.D.S.

But he destroyed the virus mercilessly, even at the cost of part of his own magic.

Harry had not known it before, but the girl had descended from a long line of squibs. Just when Harry's magic was about to give out - he had used the majority of his reserves and was actually cutting into his core, prompting his fatigue, the girl's innate magic awoke.

Phoenix song filled the room, and the girl's magic sparked through her, removing the last traces of her disease, and slowly granted her a core.

Harry gasped in shock as the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen under his Sharingan happened.

The dried up, little dead brown seed that was in every Muggle slowly opened into a beautiful blue flower of magical energy, and a white phoenix flashed into the room, singing at the top of its lungs, then disappeared. Harry doubted that he'd ever see a white phoenix again, but realized that the phoenix had ropped a single golden tear into the girl's mouth, widening her magical core from infantile to the approximate size of a sixth year's. The song, and a slight kiss from the phoenix replenished a tired Harry Potter's reserves.

"You, too, have magic now", said an exhausted Harry. "You are free of your disease."

"M-magic?"

"Yes. I made it my intention to heal you. Despite my gift, you had an advanced stage of H.I.V., and while it may have been enough, you also had cancer of some sort. I was prepared to... permanently scar my own gift to h-heal you, but your own gift awoke, and a white phoenix appeared. The wh-white phoenix. It doesn't even appear to those who possess the First Blaze. We. We are the only living humans to have seen one."

"Why though? Why heal me?"

"You looked like someone I know. And- and Christmas Eve is very important to me. I'll sleep on the floor tonight, and tomorrow morning, I'll bring you to Gringotts, and have you enrolled in Hogwart's School for Witchcraft and Wizardry."

The girl nodded, wondering what kind of dream could have been so perfect and beautiful, and she drifted off to sleep.

Harry lay on the floor, not caring about the spiders that crawled on him, or the rats that sniffed him. His cupboard was little different. His last thoughts were of what he'd done.


	13. The Eyes of a Valentine Mishap

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter, nor the Mangekyo Sharingan.

To those who didn't get it: The Vision that Salazar Slytherin had was a bit of a joke. The thing he heard was "Run! If you peddle mind-altering potions in Academy Lands. Run! If you're pursued with a lack of footwear! Run! Fornicate with it! Aurors have Wands!" The song by Ghostface Killer and Jadakiss _Run_, has the hook of "Run! If you sell drugs in the school zone. Run! If you gettin' chased with no shoes on. Run! F*** that! Cops got guns!

To those of you who didn't realize that the Christmas Eve scene wasn't a way for me to introduce a girl named Mary O.C. Sue, shame on you.

**Mangekyo**

When Hermione and Daphne returned to see Harry getting hugged by a fifth or sixth year girl who looked strikingly like Daphne, they were more than a little bit shocked.

"Hermione, Daphne, that's Marie. She's... new."

Daphne looked at an older version of herself, who was glancing shyly at the ground.

"He saved me." Her voice was different, at least. _Less royal_, thought Hermione.

"She'll be taking classes with First Years, I'm sure. I tutored a little bit over the Hols."

Hermione and Daphne nodded. "I'm going to my normal room now, Marie. If you have any trouble, ask for a House Elf, like I taught you, and tell him or her to guide you to where I am."

The trio walked through the Halls slowly. Daphne's arm had found Harry's waist, and Harry saw a flash of jealousy in Hermione's face, so he put his right arm around her, pulling her into the small clump they made. McGonagall gave him what she thought must have been a knowing smile as she passed. Harry blinked twice. He most definitely didn't _like_ Hermione or Daphne in that manner.

He had settled into his normal seat, a plush, permanently transfigured armchair set in front of a similarly spelled desk, and leaned back when the inevitable question came.

"Who was that?" Hermione asked.

"Who was who?"

"Don't play dumb, Harry. Who's _Marie_?"

"I'm getting married to her."

"You're wh-"

"No! I'm not getting married to Marie!" Harry closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. Daphne and Hermione looked at one another. This reaction was new. "I was in London, Christmas Eve. She was... burdened quite unhealthily and... had an incurable disease. So I willed my magic to cure her. Dumbledore was told about everything but the use of the Sharingan. I told him that I could Apparate..."

"But why is she _here_? She couldn't have been a wizard if your magic could-"

"The disease was tenacious. When I was approaching the end of the cure, I ran out of my reserves, and I began to cut into my core." Daphne gasped. "A... white Phoenix flamed into the room and replenished my reserves, and healed her completely."

"A _white_ Phoenix? I swear to God if you weren't Harry Potter, I would have _never_ believed you", said Hermione.

"Do you have any more legendary magic at your beck and call? Perhaps you have a stronger and better variant of the First Blaze? Your Mangekyo Sharingan evolved again? You have a complete set of Merlin's powers?"

Daphne was teasing, but Harry shook his head morosely. "My eyes, they've been getting worse. The Legilimency's enhancing them in a way that allows me to have flashes of people's worst memories. The better I know them..."

Daphne blanched. "D-dear Merlin. You can. You know. You have to know then. You know about our worst-"

Harry looked down and nodded once.

Daphne burst into tears and ran out of the room. Harry stared at the swinging door partially bewildered, and partially sorrowful.

Then he made a decision. He removed himself from his seat and ran after her. Hermione was the one to stare at the swinging door this time. She sighed and sat down in one of Harry's transfigurations, and tears came to her eyes. She decided that she was miserable.

**Mangekyo**

January came and went, and Valentine's Day approached quickly.

Harry had no use for Valentine's day. While the mail charm that Albus Dumbledore confirmed that he had cast of the boy was active, that didn't stop nearly twenty girls from approaching him with gifts and letters and Harry Potter Adventures for signature last year.

It was February Tenth when Harry was ambushed by eight Hufflepuff and Gryffindor girls in the Great Hall.

"Would you please not-"

"I'm sorry, Harry", Susan Bones said (as sweetly as she could). Harry shivered. "This is an intervention."

"Yeah, you've been so... uninviting!" said (shrieked) Lavender Brown.

Harry narrowed his eyes, and slipped past a gap between the Patil twins, one of which was a Ravenclaw, and did not look pleased to be there at all. In fact, neither of the twins looked very happy about the situation. Harry dimly remembered that the Gryffindor twin had accused him of not being Lion enough.

Harry blinked twice. Hermione, who was down the hall, quickly left. She wasn't entirely aware of exactly who she was throwing to the dogs, but she knew that Harry would leave the corridor alive, at least.

"We don't like how you hang around the Greengrass girl-"

"Who I decide to spend my time with is none of your business." Harry managed to finally slip between another opening, and he vanished as he released the Charge Step he'd been holding for several seconds. The girls stared at the space he had vacated, and stomped away, talking loudly about how awesome he must have been to Apparate in Hogwarts.

**Mangekyo**

"Please don't grind down the lizard tail like that. The recipe calls for dicing."

Daphne looked at Harry sharply. He hadn't offered much potions advice in a while. "You're in a good mood today."

"Yeah. People are strangely happy for some reason, and..."

Daphne blinked back tears. "Th-they're acting up again, right?"

"Occlumency helps. You know I'd never violate your privacy on purpose."

Daphne quickly got over her bad mood. "Do you know why people are so... anticipatory?"

"I said that they were strangely happy, not-"

"It's February Fourteenth! And Lockhart's spreading the joy!"

"I'm glad I didn't go to Breakfast tod-"

"A Singing Valentine for Mr. H. Potter!"

"Oh bugger", Harry groaned, when he realized that a small _dwarf_ of all things had shown up, dressed as a very ugly, very pink Cupid.

Harry walked away quickly. "I'm sorry, Professor Snape. My bladder is acting up."

"By all means, Potter, go ahead." Snape smirked at Harry's misfortune.

"Oh no you don't!" the dwarf cried, and he lunged at Harry, nearly managing to catch the boy by the ankles. Harry began walking quicker, but the dwarf had picked itself up, and lunged at him again.

Harry bent down quickly, picking up the dwarf by it's tunic collar, and dunked it in the shrinking solution that he and Daphne had been preparing.

_Hiss_! Harry quickly pulled it out and threw a rapidly shrinking dwarf to the ground.

"Five points to... Gryffindor, for an unorthodox demonstration of an effective potion." Snape waved his wand, and the dwarf flew out of the wand. "_Colloportus_", the man whispered, and the door sealed itself.

"There is thirty minutes until lunch. You may read your Potions book quietly", Snape said to Harry. He and Daphne sat down and began reading leisurely.

"I expect this scenario to be resolved soon", Snape growled, as banging on the door was heard. "_Silencio_."

The door became quiet.

**Mangekyo**

Harry burst into the Great Hall with fury in his face, and dwarves on his step. Albus Dumbledore smiled at him benevolently and Lockhart squeaked.

"Will you tell these dwarves to cease and desist before I harm one of them?"

"But they haven't given you your Va-"

"Listen to me, _Professor_ Lockhart. These dwarves will-"

"Okay! You're fired! All of you! Fired!"

A loud sigh of relief was heard.

**Mangekyo**

I'm sorry this was so short. I discovered Bleach today. I realized that I had not read ANYTHING related to it, ever, when some kids in my Physics class were joking about Bankai.

Ehh, it's made me realize that Japanese might be an Altaic language after all. A huge influence in Spanish is Arabic. Similarly, there's a huge influence of Arabic in Turkish... and the Altaic languages are composed of the linguistic trade along the Mongolian crest... So if you read things in Japanese with a Spanish accent, you'd think you were speaking Spanish...

Just take a look at Aizen's group names - they mean nearly the same thing in Spanish and Jap.

Once again, I'm sorry I just dropped a 1.3k filler chapter on all of you...

Next chapter will be Finale 2... Hope you enjoyed this. I won't be too mad if I get flames, but I will promise that it'll be much better tomorrow.


	14. Finale 2: The Eyes of the Snake

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter, nor the Mangekyo Sharingan.

Enjoy.

**Mangekyo**

"You're Hermione Granger right? Harry told me that if you had time, you might be able to teach me Transfiguration."

Hermione nodded. She had just finished dinner, and she was perfectly prepared to help Marie with her magic. It wasn't very often that she had such a hardworking student (despite the fact that the girl wasn't quite as smart as Harry or Daphne).

"Oh, and a word of advice. If you're going to be turning corners, you should use a mirror. Harry says that there's Basilisk on the loose in the school. He's been trying to find it since the first petrification, but it's already April, and..."

Hermione and Marie studied (well, Hermione studied, and Marie struggled) for another hour or two before they both got up to leave.

Hermione stared into the mirror as she passed the fourth floor, and had only the moment to think, _Oh no, Harry's going to be so very disappointed_, before she sank into oblivion.

Marie gazed into the mirror as Hermione's form crumpled to the ground, as stiff as a board, and was surprised to see a pair of huge yellow eyes before she too was Petrified.

**Mangekyo**

"Mr. Potter, Ms. Greengrass, I regret to inform you that Ms. Granger has been petrified", McGonagall said solemnly.

Harry's grip tightened so hard over his sword that the scabbard cut into his palm. Daphne's eyes shot open in surprise.

"The Mandrake plans will be ready in two weeks, Mr. Potter. I advise that you-"

"Thank you Professor."

Harry walked off into the corridors, his Mangekyo Sharingan spinning at legendary speeds as he nearly flew through the corridors, utilizing his Charge Step and his Turbo Mode to run for the Hospital Wing.

The door to the Hospital Wing slammed open, and Harry rushed past a protesting Madam Pompfrey as he knelt at Hermione's bedside, shaking his head at the stillness.

_She looks like she's dead_.

"Don't think that", Harry muttered to himself. "Don't think that. Don't think that." The mantra repeated, and Harry's belief was so great that his magic bled into the thought, and for a moment, he had an illusion of Hermione waking up.

But the illusion, held up by pure willpower that evaporated a moment after Harry stared in shock surprise, wore off, and Hermione (still under the last vestiges of the accidental magic) slumped back onto the bed. Tears sprang to Harry's eyes.

For a moment, he decided that he could barely believe that he'd be crying over someone else, or crying at all, but that thought disappeared the moment he realized that it was _Hermione_ lying in the bed.

Harry began casting several charms that he knew not only with his Sharingan, but well enough that he could do it without a wand. It was a medium-level Privacy Ward that kept other Witches and Wizards from both seeing his obscured face, and a Notice-Me-Not field that he threw over the entire area.

"M-mangekyo Sharingan." Harry stared at the hundreds of thousands of strands of magic that held Hermione in magical stasis - petrification. Harry's hands found one of the strands, and he slowly teased it out of the collective, and snapped it.

He exhaled, and isolated another ten strings. While it didn't take much magic, this was uniquely difficult due to the intense need of magical control.

He worked through the night, managing to snap nearly twenty thousand strings. He broke down once in a while, crying into Hermione's robes, in hope that she'd simply wake.

Daphne sat off to the side, watching Harry work, and stared as Harry slowly and steadily moved through the strands which she knew existed, but she couldn't see.

By Seven Thirty in the morning, Harry was exhausted, running on fumes, and several pepper-up potions that he had nicked from Madam Pompfrey's supply chest.

"I-I'm nearly done, Daphne. Just, several thousand more. I must... persevere. Say something nice, will you?"

"Okay Harry", Daphne walked behind the boy and ran her hands against his back, pushing and prodding at the strained muscles.

"In the war-torn pastures of the world, I pushed aside small bushes and shrubbery in search of green grass. I met a blade of grass that told me about its predicament. That no one would realize it was green. I laughed at it. It was yellowed, decayed and molding. It looked to be barely alive. It told me that when I found the green pastures in my soul, I would know where the green pastures in the world were. Such..."

Harry had started breaking strings again, finding hidden reserves within himself. _Is it true that there's been green grass before me the whole time? Is my soul so damaged that..._

As Harry drew closer to the end of his trial, Hermione began to color again, and the magic began to course through her body, inadvertently helping Harry dislocate the final thirty or forty strands.

"H-harry?" Hermione yawned.

"Shhh, don't bother him." Daphne had levitated Harry's prone form onto Hermione's bed. Harry was snoring softly, and seemed to be more tired than either of them had ever found them.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, looking at Harry worriedly.

"He spent eighteen hours healing you by dissecting the strands of magic that held the Petrification together."

"But I'm not the only person with-"

"Shut up, Hermione!" Daphne hissed. "H-he loves you, I think. Do you know why your robes are all wet? Because he's been _crying_ over you. He risked exposing the rest of the school to knowledge of his Sharingan to help you. How do you think he accomplished something that even Albus Dumbledore could only hope for?"

**Mangekyo**

Harry woke twelve hours later, sandwiched between Hermione and Daphne. To his horror, his arms were around Hermione, and his face was buried in her hair.

"Harry", Daphne said softly. Harry turned to face her slowly. She appeared to be sleeping.

"Harry, if you love Hermione more than me, I won't blame you for entering a relationship with her. I just wish I had a chance."

Harry stared at Daphne's sleeping form, quite alarmed. He slowly extricated himself from Daphne's grasp, and Hermione from his own, and left the Hospital Wing.

He didn't notice that, while contemplating his life, he had walked into his Potions room.

"Harry, is there something you want?" said Snape from the direction of a desk. He seemed to be grading papers.

Harry took a deep breath. "Yes. Can you tell me more about Basilisks? Hermione was Petrified a bit more than two days ago, and I had just managed to undo it this morning."

"Undo it?" Snape asked sharply.

"Yes, I managed to snap all forty three thousand eight hundred and twenty two strands that held her in magical stasis."

"Describe it?"

"They were grey, and impeded the flow of Hermione's magic. I had to expose each strand and snap it. When I neared the end, Hermione's magic started pumping, and burst through the last thirty or so strands, and she woke. The process took eighteen hours."

"You've been healing for eighteen hours? Merlin", Snape stared, too surprised to be snarky.

"Yes. I slept until around now. Tell me about Basilisks. I have to kill this one."

"Very well."

**Mangekyo**

_A Basilisk has several very powerful attributes. First are its vaunted eyes. By staring at you directly, they can not only kill you, but convince you to do anything, if you're susceptible at all to the Imperius Curse or Compulsions, which I'm sure you're not. If they see you through a mirror, their Death stare will only Petrify._

_Basilisk Venom is incredibly potent, able to last hundreds of years even out of the snake, and is used in very many Dark potions and rituals. Only Phoenix tears, or an impossibly difficult to brew three-part Transitive Antidote will have any effect on the venom._

_Additionally, they have nearly impenetrable hide - a Dragon could perhaps take several Killing Curses to bring down. You would need hundreds of Killing Curses to seriously damage a Basilisk._

_Worse yet, the Basilisk moves several times fast than humans, even for its size. You may be able to reflexively dodge it, or use your Sharingan to evade it._

_On the very top of the Sharingan, all of the Great Eyes are based off of the Basilisk itself. The Basilisk is capable of seeing magical disturbances, and techniques like the Eagle Eye or the All Seeing Eyes are an imitation of it. I believe that the Sharingan is a product of someone attempt to copy the mind-ensaring properties of the Basilisk's eye._

_I do not know whether the Mangekyo or the Basilisk have more power. I would refrain from looking into the Basilisk's eyes, though I'm sure it wouldn't kill you outright._

**Mangekyo**

Harry followed the Ward Lines to where he knew there existed a strange shaped Nexus point outside the second floor abandoned girl's bathroom that he had thrown Lockhart into when the man had accosted him, on Halloween.

He stepped into the bathroom, using his eyes to look for discrepancies. Then he saw it. In huge, hazy red letters, and archaic English that Harry had no doubt that only the Sharingan could see (due to his knowledge of Salazar Slytherin), Salazar marked the point of entry to the Chamber of Secrets.

"_We're going to be huntingssssss_", Harry hissed at the Kusanagi. It woke, and Harry drew it, slashing through the sink and pipes as if it were made of paper.

As Harry expected, there was no water. Instead, a ghost began to screech, moaning, wail and generally cause a mess. "Shut up!" Harry roared over the din, correctly identifying the ghost as Moaning Myrtle.

Harry threw himself into a sort of slimy, wet slide, his sword held in front of him just in case. What must have been minutes later, he shot out of the tunnel, and landed neatly on a pile of bones. He whispered several cleaning charms, and switched his sword to his left hand.

He wasn't alone. Someone had recently been here - he could tell by the frantic footprints on the various rat skeletons, rooster remains, and, perhaps more disturbingly, the whimpers ahead. It appeared that there were two people arguing.

Harry heard a loud, "_Open_", in Parseltongue, and suddenly the corridor was bathed in a pale green light.

Harry slipped past the closing gates of sorts, and watched, fascinated, as a magical construct of some sort argued with a first year - the Weasley girl.

"That's enough", Harry said. He wasn't very loud, but his words echoed through the huge Chamber.

The girl squeaked, and the magical construct looked at him, intrigued.

"At long last we meet, Harry Potter."

"You're a piece of magic, not a fan. I fail to see how you could have been waiting to meet me."

"A piece of magic? I am _much_ more than that!" the boy shouted. His eyes flashed red. "But dear little _Ginevra_ here doesn't have to see this." The boy knocked the littlest Weasley out with the flick of a (the girl's) wand.

"Do you know who I am, Harry Potter?"

"No. I must confess to not knowing your name, origin, or purpose, but I can guess to the last. You must be a fanatical sort of Slytherin, ready to destroy Hogwarts for the noble cause of killing Muggleborns."

"Very good, Harry-"

But Harry wasn't finished. "You petrified a friend of mine recently. Hermione was kept in magical stasis for nearly eighteen hours. It could have done serious damage to her magical core if it had lasted any longer."

"The school's made Mandrake Restorative already?" the other boy asked.

"No, I healed her myself. See, it was mainly due to the help of the... Mangekyo Sharingan." Harry's eyes spun into a Kaleidoscope.

The boy recoiled. "Th-that's the- Impossible!"

"I know who you are, Voldemort. And I'm pleased to tell you that my _mudblood_ mother gave these to me." With that, Harry fired his first spell, the Ice Spear he was so fond of, causing Voldemort to yelp, and jump out of the way.

Harry's Kusanagi flashed, and parried the spells that Voldemort sent at him, as he built his Charge Step.

"How did you know?"

"Who else is a Parseltongue? There hasn't been a Parseltongue at Hogwarts for nearly two hundred years before yourself, and you don't sound like anyone from an earlier time."

Harry pumped his magic into his muscles, successfully activating turbo mode, and split Voldemort's arms from his body. The spectre cursed.

"How are you able to hurt me, boy?"

"This is the Kusanagi of Salazar Slytherin."

"You are full of surprises, Harry Potter", said Tom Riddle from the floor. His limbs were mostly missing, and his voice was harsh, cracked. "Unfortunately, I haven't absorbed enough energy to duel with you properly."

"I dueled with you last year. You had possessed my Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I stabbed you in the chest and burned you alive."

Voldemort hissed. "Unfortunately, you will not be leaving here alive, young Harry. _Speak to me, Slytherin, Greatest of the Hogwarts Four_!"

Voldemort sneered, and his visage was sucked into a black diary of sorts. Harry watched as a huge statue of the Founder opened its mouth, of all things, and a rumbling was heard. He made his decision, and plunged the Kusanagi into the Diary.

A distant scream was heard, and black ink jetted forth from the diary like blood, spraying Harry with a fine mist. Harry turned away instinctively, hoping that the ink wasn't poisonous, and then turned back very quickly. A hiss had filled the room.

"_You, you are the one who killed the heir!_"

"_That's not true. He's been dead - that was just a memory of him_."

The Basilisk, in all of its sixty feet of glory, gave several unintelligible hisses, and shot out of Salazar's mouth, drawing itself to full height, and locked eyes with Harry's Mangekyo Sharingan.

Power. That was the first thought Harry had. While the Sharingan was an object of finesse, of perfection, the Mangekyo Sharingan traded the life of a best friend, and the health of his mind for an insane upgrade - several powers that were otherworldly, even in light of magic, and made the original eye obsolete.

If it had been the Sharingan that Harry had trained on the Basilisk, there was a pretty good chance he would have resisted Petrification for several seconds before succumbing to the hundreds of frequencies and _stringing _(which had bound Hermione's magic) that attempted to enter Harry's eyes.

The Kaleidoscope, however, was more than enough to keep Harry from dying, and now their eyes were negotiating whether or not Harry would be petrified.

_Deactivate the Kaleidoscope_, came a breathy whisper in Harry's mind. It was soft, and carried a seductive tone to it, and seemed to be a blend of two voices that Harry knew very well. He realized that the Basilisk was attempting to subvert his subconscious, and turn his own mind against him.

_Deactivate the Kaleidoscope, and I'll give you anything you want, Harry_, the whisper came with a teasing lilt this time - the same that Daphne used when she convinced Harry to carry her books. Harry swallowed. He was about to break off the connection, but it was so very... pleasant. He had a strong mind - he wasn't going to let it actually affect him.

_Harry, think of the pleasures I could provide you... You just have to turn off your Eyes_. Harry knew, then, that he was in serious trouble. He likened it to the last minutes of sleep in the morning, being immersed in the warmth of a bed, and being sheathed in the only place where there were no worries...

_Harry, please don't use your Eyes on me_, the voice purred. Harry shivered as it seemed to run through his spine, and _something_ tickled all of his nerves, and a sound he'd never heard himself make escaped his lips. Yet he still held the gaze, his eyes spinning wildly.

"_Back off!_", another voice hissed loudly. "_I know what you're doing, Basilisk_!"

The Kusanagi had spoken up, jerking Harry out of his reverie. Harry fed more magic into his eyes, pushing the tendrils of Petrification back. The Kusanagi didn't stop speaking.

"_Your eyes are just as powerful as hers! Use them!_"

While it may have been true, the Basilisk had a thousand years of experience on Harry. And she had read his every thought while invading his mind. She had read his every repression.

Her voice shifted from the teasing seduction of Daphne to the innocent wonder of Hermione. _Harry, I don't want to play like this. I want you... to please keep your eyes from spinning?_ Harry shuddered. He had thought it was bad before. Something was rooting him to the spot, as the Basilisk pinned him down with her gaze.

_Harry, don't you want to play with me? I can't play if your eyes are spinning!_ Harry was immersed again. Unbeknown to Harry, the Basilisk was using the full power of her compulsion, and had decided that she _must_ eliminate the boy before he became a serious threat - those eyes were as powerful as hers, if they had a different use...

_Harry, turn it off, I'm telling you to_. Harry nodded unconsciously. There was fire in his veins, and his breathing came in short gasps. Once again, a series of moans escaped his lips and his limbs thrashed slightly. The red haze of the Kaleidoscope was slowly receding and-

Suddenly, Daphne's Greengrass House Chants sounded in his mind.

_Barefoot and naked of breast, I stand on a plain of green grass, mingling with the nature in the world. My clothes are ragged and dust-laden, but I stay ever blissful as I enter society with no magic to extend my life, but rely on the power of the world. Now, before me, dead trees come alive, and flames burn with the fervor of the enlightened. Flames. Burn. With. The. Fervor. Of. The. _Enlightened.

A haunting melody played in his mind, harmonizing within itself, echoing. _Or was it in his mind? No, it wasn't_. A White Phoenix flamed into existence between Harry and the Basilisk. It disappeared in another gout of flame, and was suddenly in front of the Basilisk, and with sharp claws, ripped the Basilisk's eyes out.

"_You summoned a White Phoenix_?" the Kusanagi hissed.

"_I-I didn't know! I swear, my last thoughts were of Daphne's House Chants, and-_"

"_You never cease to amaze me, Harry_."

After it finished its task, the Phoenix began to hover above the scene, and it spoke. _I have done my part, Harbinger. The ball is in your court, so to speak_.

Harry nodded, and as the Basilisk reared in pain and anger, he spoke words he hoped he would never have to.

"Bringer of the Storm of Summer, Lord Tatehaya, Susano'o no Mikoto, I invoke your wrath upon my enemies, in the name of the Kaleidoscope!"

Salazar's manifestation of the Susano'o was powerful and compact, a green mist that floated over his body and gave him an ethereal quality.

Harry's manifestation of the Susano'o was overwhelming. Gold and silver mist poured from his pores, and surrounded him, creating huge ribs of the Flames of Amaterasu to defend his body, and forming appendages which looked for all the world like finely misted precious metals. Harry looked like a warrior god of some sort, and even to him, it was terrifying.

The effect was ruined, slightly, but the intense pain in his eyes, and the copious blood that sprayed from his right eye. The White Phoenix flew upwards in alarm.

In Harry's left hand was the Kusanagi, held over a jar of Sake on his left hip.

"I call the Sakegari no Tachi, the Totsuka of the Storm God to aid me in my endeavors!"

Despite the loss of her eyes, the Basilisk was still extremely powerful, and faster than Harry was when he wasn't spreading magic through his muscles. Harry was holding his Charge-Step, and frantically attempting to slash the Basilisk with either his Kusanagi or his Totsuka, with more than slight annoyance. He knew how to use a sword in either hand, but using both at once seemed to be so clumsy. How had Salazar done it?

"I call the Yata no Kagami, the Mirror of Eight Spans, in place of the Sake-cutting Sword, to defend my person!"

Harry switched his Kusanagi to his right hand, and blocked a flying drop of venom with the Mirror, which glowed and absorbed it.

The Basilisk flew past him again, and he finally realized that he had built his Charge Step far enough, and slipped into Turbo Mode.

He dashed up to the snake in a surprising burst of speed, and drove his sword into the roof of her mouth, puncturing the soft membrane, and sending the Kusanagi into her brain, killing the snake instantly.

Unfortunately, most snakes have such reflexes that even after death, they have the tendency to snap their jaws when warm objects are near them. The Basilisk was no exception, and Harry wasn't fast enough to dodge a fang which drove into his right arm.

Harry's eyes widened, and he pulled out the Kusanagi with an easy _schick_, and cut the fang out of the Basilisk's mouth, and rolled back, clutching his arm, his Mangekyo Sharingan deactivated.

It was no use, it seemed. The White Phoenix flew down, judging him. Harry crawled up to the Phoenix, who patiently waited for the presumptuous human to ask for tears. The Phoenix could sense the Dark aura bleeding off of the boy's eyes, and resisted the urge to claw them out too.

But Harry didn't ask for healing. He half-knelt, half rolled to a stop before the regal bird, and gasped in pain. Already, the edge of his visions were fading away.

"Wh-white phoenix of legend. I know you possess the ability to c-communicate. I ask you, as a Paladin who has vanquished a Basilisk at the cost of his own life... to tell D-daphne Greengrass and Hermione Granger that I am sorry for my r-recklessness. I'm sorry I left them behind to grieve, but that I have avenged the wrongs perpetrated on Hermione's person by the memory of Voldemort."

Harry collapsed to the ground, and the Phoenix looked on curiously. He had been waiting for a chance to deny the boy healing, but it seemed that even with the Darkness that crested within his soul, the boy was noble. Noble beyond belief.

_No one who can call the Storm God to their aid is blameless, young Harry Potter. But you will not die today_, Harry heard vaguely. Already, his mind approached the fields of Elysium, and he was greeted by a plain of green gr-

His eyes snapped open as an excruciating pain tore through them. He watched dimly as the White Phoenix cried over his wound in shock.

"In your eyes, I am no better than the Basilisk, Bearer of Light..."

_Yet you asked not for selfish healing, but for me to assuage the grief of your mates._

"M-mates? You mean that in a pl-platonic sense, don't you?" Harry's face turned red as he remembered how the Basilisk had used Daphne and Hermione's voices to compel him.

The Phoenix trilled amusingly, and a final, golden, tear drop dripped into the wound.

"Rrarghhh!" Harry cried as his eyes burned. "What have you done?"

_I healed you_.

"Have you destroyed my eyes?" Harry asked, horrified.

_No, I do not believe so. We will not meet again, child. You hold the Taint of Misery, I see it surely now._

And then the Phoenix was gone. Harry conjured a mirror, and whispered, "Mangekyo Sharingan."

Gold haze. It was red no more, but rather, a beautiful shade of gold.

Yet... the Misery he perceived was more extreme. He realized for a moment that he might have contracted a kind of empathy only a Phoenix could have, and shuddered as he relived the emotions of the Weasley girl's slow possession. He rose to his feet shakily, and levitated the girl through the huge doors of the Chamber and then proceeded to levitate himself out of the tunnel as well.

He dumped the girl unceremoniously onto the ground in the girl's bathroom, and then cleaned himself of all the accumulated grime, then quickly walked into his sanctuary, the room on the third floor. His Kusanagi was sheathed again.

**Mangekyo**

"How long have you been sitting here?" Daphne asked.

Harry didn't respond.

"What happened to you down there, Harry?" Daphne sat next to Harry.

Harry drew the Kusanagi.

"H-harry, what are you doing?"

"I'm going to kill myself."

"But, but why?" Daphne's eyes widened, and she very nearly began sobbing. This was serious. Harry had drawn his sword.

"There was Phoenix. The White Phoenix, the one that healed Marie, I'm sure. The Basilisk had me ensnared when the Last Chant of House Greengrass played in my mind, and I summoned it."

Daphne gaped at him for a moment, then remembered the seriousness of the situation.

"It told me that... I'll never be free of my taint of Misery. It told me that I was unworthy to ever gaze upon it again. How did I fall?"

Daphne snarled, and pulled the Kusanagi from Harry's grasp, and held it to her own neck.

"If you have to kill someone to sheathe it again, kill me, Harry, for I too am tainted. But you know, I know you know. You've known since January, maybe earlier. There is no day I go without thinking about my f-father-"

Harry froze. The blade was very nearly resting on Daphne's neck. Considering the sword's sharpness and poison, it would kill her instantly if it even touched her neck.

"D-daphne, please, don't."

"Th-then you must not. We'll find a rat or something. You're not the only person with a b-burden. You don't have to do this alone. You have me. And Hermione."

Several tears escaped Harry's eyes.

"We're your friends now, but... we both l-love you..."

Harry gently took the sword from Daphne.

"Repeat it, Harry! We... we love you."

"You and Hermione l-love me."

"You will never think of killing yourself and leaving us behind."

"I will never think of killing myself and leaving you behind."

"You will forget what the Phoenix said, because you know that which is important. You know that you can love. You know that it is the greatest power, and the greatest weakness in the Universe.

"I will forget what the Phoenix said, because I know that which is important. I know that I can love. I know that it is the greatest power, and the greatest weakness in the Universe."

The Kusanagi gave a keening hiss, wailed, and its blade split into three pieces, but Harry didn't care. He had Daphne and Hermione.

**Mangekyo**

Harry sat in Dumbledore's office as the man told him that he would have to retrieve the Weasley family personally.

He stared at the Sorting Hat sitting on a small shelf with various esoteric items.

The Sorting Hat seemed to be staring at him, so he got up and pulled it off the shelf, putting it onto his head.

_Bee in your bonnet, Mr. Potter_?

_Yes, actually._ Harry transferred the memories of his encounter with the Basilisk and the splitting of Kusanagi to the Hat.

_When Salazar took the eyes of Cadmus Peverell for his own, he slowly grew more distant. When he finally took the Kusanagi from the Emperor Sujin, he made the transformation from distant to evil. I believe this is a good thing._

_What do you mean? What's wrong with the Kusanagi._

_Harry, do you really trust a sentient being who asks for a sacrifice every time it is used to its full capacity?_

Harry didn't communicate any thoughts to the Hat directly, but he did not shield them either.

_You should not hunt for a permanent solution to your-_

_I know, Hat, you told me this already! Yet, I must know. My mother, she needed to know how to activate the Mangekyo Sharingan to save my life. I may need a permanent eye to save Daphne or Hermione when the time comes._

_Are you sure that's not a simple justification?_

_Yes! I swear that my eyes will be used to defend those that I love, and those that love me._

_I fear, Mr. Potter, that I must extract an oath from you as you did me. I will tell you about the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan if you will swear it on your magic._

Harry was silent for a moment. He would be on the floor, paralyzed by venom and bleeding from the neck, or simply dead, if not for Daphne. _I swear on my magic that my eyes will be used to defend those I love, and I shall never use them to harm them._

The blue glow flashed, and Harry felt something attach itself to his magic. He assumed it was the Oath.

_The Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan, Mr. Potter, can be activated if you take the Mangekyo Sharingan of another person. It must not be a trade. It must be done without consent, as spoils of war. As to who possess the Mangekyo? I do not know._

_Is that it? Did I swear an Oath for no reason?_

_Heavens no, Mr. Potter_. _Your sword won't work for you any more? There's light in you yet._

Thunk. A very, very heavy piece of metal hit Harry on the top of his head, and he saw stars for a moment, before he quickly pulled the Hat off.

He stared at the silver hilt within the Hat, and shrugged, pulling the sword out.

He had drawn the Crimson Ruby of Godric Gryffindor. And apparently, Swords were fond of memories.


	15. The Eyes of a New Resolve

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor the Mangekyo Sharingan

**Mangekyo**

The memory began in a different way than Harry was accustomed to. The Kusanagi had slipped Harry into the streams of memory and time and sent him flowing smoothly in the space of dreams and thought.

The Crimson Ruby, rougher, less refined, and infinitely less suave than Slytherin's Grass Cutter threw him into memories as if they were locked in a brawl, and there was a large amount of convenient glass sculptures to the side. Harry noticed that the flight sent himself in a different direction every ten seconds or so.

**Mangekyo**

"_Salazar. Don't do this to her. Don't do this to me!" Godric cried, his voice echoing in the Chamber of Slytherin. The tiny pet Basilisk, unable to Petrify anyone, let alone kill them, was curled around Slytherin's neck, and hissing very slightly. She was an intelligent one, Godric knew, and a corrupting influence on the great man who he had once called his friend and lover._

_Helga was bound on an altar in the middle of the Chamber, and Rowena and Godric looked on fearfully. The only reason they hadn't intervened yet was because Slytherin had promised Helga's death if they fired a single spell. He was the most accomplished Mind Mage among them. He was a jack-of-all-trades, but the difference between a Jack and a Sage was pronounced. It was clear that Slytherin had mastery over, well, everything._

"_You don't understand! If I kill her, and take "the eyes of my beloved one", there will be", a feverish look was etched on his face._

"_Is Immortality worth your beloved one, Sal?" Godric pleaded, using the man's pet name, one that he hadn't used in years._

_Salazar looked between Godric, Rowena and Helga, the first of which was pleading, the second crying and the third unconscious._

"_No."_

"_Then-"_

"_But, immortality would mean that I will learn everything in the world, the Greatest Sage of all t-"_

"_You are the greatest sage of all time already! You've beaten me at everything except swordwork at this point. You know more anything than Rowena, but for her Inner Eye. And Helga. You do everything better than her, and she admits it." _

_Salazar was not fazed. "I'm sorry Godric."_

"_You truly will leave us behind, with nothing?"_

"_I'm sorry."_

"_You don't have to do this! You can... make a Horcrux, or bind your Soul to the grounds, or-"_

"_All are imperfect methods compared with the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan!"_

"_You killed you brother for your Mangekyo Sharingan. You're going to go ahead and damage your soul-"_

"_Do you understand how much power my eyes will have? I will be invincible in battle! Able to protect all of you and-"_

"_Just not Helga. You can't even protect her from yourself."_

"_Shut up, Godric, you wouldn't understand. You may have the First Blaze, but-"_

"_You've always been jealous, haven't you? That the Phoenixes liked me better. That Merlin liked me better, that-"_

"_Godric." Rowena's voice was crisp, and in a moment, everyone was reminded that she was one of the most beautiful women in the world, her hair swirling, and her eyes alight with tears. Salazar, who had long hardened his heart to his fellow founder's grace, took an involuntary step back, and the ever-expressive Godric gasped._

_She had stood up._

"_If you stop the ritual, I'll sleep with you again."_

"_After all these years?" Salazar said quietly._

"_Y-yes", her bottom lip quivered, and Salazar was forcefully reminded of how manipulative the woman was._

_He looked away - he couldn't bear to see her, taking slow steps towards him._

"_No."_

"_No?"_

"_I- No."_

"_You wouldn't? I'm not too proud to admit that I've always enjoyed your-"_

"_Damnit Rowena, you can't do this to me. Not when I'm so close. Move back. I'm starting. Now."_

_He raised the Kusanagi._

"_Salazar, I have no choice but to", the grip around the Crimson Ruby tightened, "STRIKE FIRST!"_

_Godric disappeared in a flash of Phoenix fire, and appeared right next to Salazar, prepared to run him through._

_Salazar was faster, if less skilled. "Mangekyo Sharingan!"_

Harry noted that Salazar shouted a lot more than he did.

_Salazar parried several blows and managed to nick Godric with the Kusanagi, but the man didn't keel over and die, as expected._

"_I'm glad you took my antidote, Godric. Not only will you grant me a true fight, but you've proven that you intended to duel with me today." Salazar sneered. His face, once plain and unassuming, was a banal sort of evil._

_Godric grit his teeth and swung at Salazar multiple times, managing to burn the other man's arms and legs, but never caused serious damage. While the Mangekyo Sharingan allowed Salazar to see all or Godric's movements, he wasn't quite fast enough to dodge most of the blows._

Harry was disappointed to realize that Salazar was much better than he was with the sword, and Godric was possibly more skilled than any living man. He was suddenly pulled out of the memory rather forcefully as Albus Dumbledore tapped his shoulder.

"Harry?"

"Professor." Harry kept his eyes down. He didn't want to fight off a Legilimenic attack right after having the Crimson Ruby dump memories into him.

"Would you like to explain to me what happened in the Chamber?"

"Sir, I got... angry. The Basilisk had petrified Hermione, and I was angry for my friend." Harry blushed slightly, but it was forced. In fact, it was prime acting. He had been worried about Hermione, but he'd never _blush_.

Dumbledore surveyed the boy in front of him, and decided that Harry Potter was most definitely a wizard behind Albus Dumbledore. Who else but a true Gryffindor would have charged into the Chamber of secrets waving a family heirloom, breaking through a century's old enchantment, just to avenge a friend and rescue a girl he didn't know? "I suppose you are indeed worthy of your moniker, Prince."

Harry resisted scowling, blinked twice, then smiled. "Thank you Professor Dumbledore. You're very kind." Polite, concise, and evasive. Harry decided that he liked his speech patterns.

"I notice that you carry the Sword of Gryffindor now. May I inquire as to what happened to your heirloom?"

Harry's mind ran at amazing speeds. "The Basilisk bit it, and the venom, brute force, and magical strength was more powerful than the sword. At that point, I managed to stab the Basilisk with the destroyed sword, further damaging it, and it split into pieces, though it killed the Basilisk. It will be missed."

Harry felt the Crimson Ruby heat slightly in his hand. While it wasn't quite as disturbing as the hiss that the Kusanagi gave, the message was clear - the sword was laughing at him.

"I see." Albus frowned. The Potter heirloom had seemed so familiar. And swords that were familiar to Albus Dumbledore generally didn't break so easily, especially ones with such strong enchantments on them.

"Sir, would you mind if I carried Gryffindor's Sword around in my old sword's stead? I have grown used to the weight, and I felt rather naked when it broke."

"Of course you can, my boy." Albus smiled benignly. If anything, Harry deserved to carry a weapon, especially one that spoke so loudly of his bravery.

**Mangekyo**

Harry walked out of Dumbledore's office feeling as if he'd dodged multiple bullets while on a tightrope. Speaking with the older man was certainly nerve wracking, with the latent Legilimency, and the need to appear helpful and brave.

The Crimson Ruby was in the Kusanagi's old sheathe, and he had given pieces of the blade to both Hermione and Daphne. The splits were clean, and still very poisonous. In case of extreme emergencies, he knew how Slytherin had produced the antidote, and the girls would have a very deadly, if self-mutilating weapon in the shards.

Harry began compiling a list of things to work on as the Summer Hols approached.

First of all would be continued research into Politics, but that was a constant.

He would have to view memories of Gryffindor using the Crimson Ruby to both get a feel for the sword (which was lighter than the Kusanagi, and wasn't quite as sharp). Yet Gryffindor had used it so much more effectively. Harry shuddered to think how powerful Godric would have been if the man had gotten hold of one of the truly great swords. The Fae sword Excalibur, Gilgamesh's Ea, or Sigfried's Balmung. Three swords that completely outclassed the power of the Kusanagi. He had no idea where any of them were...

There was always dueling, and illusion work, which was rather rudimentary wandless magic. Wandless magic seemed to be a great thing to embark on - Harry knew it was possible, and that it was far out of reach for many wizards, but he wasn't just any wizard. Fortunately, his long-term study of magic with his eyes would prove intensely useful.

And then there were Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, both of which he excelled at. Spell creation was a joy that he did not entirely understand yet (could it be possible to recreate Amaterasu with his wand?). Wards, Seals and more exotic applications of Runes were quickly becoming one of his passions, passions that he couldn't use his Mangekyo Sharingan for.

That made it all the better. He had postponed his Legilimency training, to pursue Occlumency. Organizing his thoughts would put him closer to Hermione in terms of pure innovation, and it might, just _might_ block out some of the worse Miseries that he encountered.

But there was another thing that Harry wanted to do.

He stood at the edge of a precipice. Would he pursue power beyond what his Sharingan could grant him (Runes, Arithmancy and Occlumency), or would he walk the path of Misery?

He decided that he would have to take a journey, a vacation of sorts (utilizing the Kamui), to places with lots of Misery. Southeast Asia. Africa. South America.

He could study Occlumency and Runes firsthand. And he could, perhaps, dare to right some wrongs.

Because Harry had made a discovery when his Kusanagi split.

He was nothing like Salazar.

He was Harry Potter. And Harry Potter, despite being an uncaring bastard to the majority of Hogwarts, would not let Misery go unchecked. Even if it weakened him.


	16. The Eyes of a Fleeing Fool

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor the Mangekyo Sharingan

**Mangekyo**

"Gilderoy, you're fired", said Albus Dumbledore, point his forefinger at the other man.

Lockhart sputtered for a moment, in disbelief, then he pulled out his wand. "You surely can't fire _me_, Albus Dumbledore!"

"Do you intend to attack me, Gilderoy?"

By then, a crowd had gathered. Harry stood on the balcony overlooking the Entrance Hall, a thin smirk visible upon his face, the Sword of Gryffindor hanging (in the scabbard of Kusanagi) off his waist.

He attracted nearly as much attention as Lockhart and Dumbledore.

"Is that the Sword of Gryffindor?" a Fifth year whispered reverently.

Several upper year Ravenclaw confirmed the rumors. "Potter is truly in possession of the Sword of Gryffindor now."

Harry thought it was ironic that the Kusanagi was a more powerful sword than the Crimson Ruby.

"Now see here, Dumbledore. I've been hiding my magical talent this entire year, doing things that would force you to assume I was a lesser wizard."

"I do assume so, Gilderoy. I remember you quite well, Slytherin, class of Eighty Four. Caught cheating on your O.W.L.s even when we all knew you had the ability to pass them." Dumbledore's tone became heavy and serious. "I may be old, but I do still possess a modicum of intelligence and perhaps, I dare say, more than a small amount of skill left in these creaking bones."

Dumbledore's presence became oppressive, and several weaker students keeled over, in shock and in fear. Daphne, Harry was pleased to note, stood straight, even as small beads of sweat formed on her neck.

The room had become rather warm, and Lockhart's sneer had become much less pronounced, though he hadn't moved - his wand was still pointed at Dumbledore.

Hermione drew a deep breath and quickly straightened her back when she realized that Harry had been staring at her encouragingly and gesturing at Daphne's ability to stay composed.

"Mangekyo Sharingan", Harry whispered, as Lockhart began the duel with a borderline Dark Skin-Splitting Curse. His eyes memorized the motions, of Lockhart's wand, the distintive J shape and slash that released Lockhart's will.

Dumbledore's wand flashed as it touched the curse, unravelling the strands of magic it was composed of, and dispersing them. Dumbledore threw a Stunning spell at Lockhart, which the other man handily blocked with a Shield Charm.

Harry allowed a smile to grace his lips. He'd finally learned how to do a Shield Charm. Lockhart quickly followed with an Entrails Expulsion curse, throwing his wand hand forward as if he were lobbing the small black blob that he had formed very suddenly at Dumbledore. This curse was much more powerful and a lot darker than the Skin-Splitting Curse, and Harry watched, fascinated, as Dumbledore summoned a Dueler's Shield, a resplendent Silver with a Phoenix emblazoned upon it.

The curse splattered against the shield and then disintegrated, leaving Dumbledore unharmed. Dumbledore frowned, looking for all the world like a disappointed grandfather. "That is a Dark curse, Gilderoy, you shouldn't have-"

"Shut up, old man! I know how the world treats those without power, without accomplishment, without fame! Even young Harry Potter believes he's superior to me!" he roared, and proceeded to fire an Entrails Expulsion curse at Harry, who listened amusedly.

"Harry!" Dumbledore cried, but his fears were unfounded. Harry's sword cut straight through the black blob, and it disintegrated much in the same way it had before. "That is enough!" Dumbledore thundered, his presence increasing to a degree that it affected even Harry slightly. Most of the lower years had passed out, and only three seventh years and Harry himself were left standing. Daphne fell against Harry, trembling.

The Professors had begun to arrive at this, feeling the sheer power that Dumbledore exuded. Some of the weaker teachers, like the Astronomy Professor, trembled.

"You have attempted to kill innocent bystanders in a duel between us, Gilderoy. Within the Nineteen Thirty Four Confederation Statute, it is well within my rights to rip your soul from your body! What were you thinking!"

Lockhart's glare returned, full force. "All of you simply mock me! I grow tired of this farce!"

A ring that Lockhart was wearing began to glow a magnificent shade of lilac (Harry noted that it was Lockhart's favorite color), and Lockhart's power seemed to increase exponentially.

"A power ritual, Gilderoy? How you have fallen, I cannot comprehend... Very well. Blaze of Merlin, attend me!"

The room lit in a flash of fire that even Dumbleodre looked away from (Harry was saved from blindness by his Eyes). A phoenix of flame (Harry noted that it was very similar to Fiendfyre, or what he'd read of it) slammed into Lockhart, and burned the man into ash, even as his power manifested itself.

Harry sank to his knees. The power of the First Blaze had compelled him to fall unconscious, but his Eyes counteracted it. He discovered, rather bitterly, that he had no idea how to imitate the effects of the First Blaze - the information was simply not in his mind. Though he had learned several new spells, he was ultimately not satisfied.

Only Dumbledore, Snape and Flitwick were standing, anyhow. Harry didn't feel ashamed - he wasn't at their level yet, but he vowed to be. As Dumbledore scanned the room, he beamed at Harry, who tried his best to return a grin.

**Mangekyo**

Ron prattled on excitedly about his family winning a trip to Egypt, and Malfoy began firing verbal barbs at the other as soon as they assembled at the platform to board the Hogwart's Express back to King's Cross. Harry looked from one to the other, his face a shade of impassivity that only he could have attained, and looked about his person.

It appeared that the cult that had sprang up, headed by Susan Bones, no doubt, devoted to following him around and giggling, had tripled in number since he had begun carrying the Crimson Ruby around.

He felt a sharp spike of anger thinking about the uselessness of the new sword. Kusanagi slid through his opponents like a, well, perfect sword. The Crimson Ruby had to be used the same way any supposedly lesser weapon was. It was capable of denting, as if were made of Goblin Silver. Harry didn't _dare_ use the Flames of Shining Heaven on it - he was afraid the telltale black flame would destroy even the heavily enchanted ruby at the pommel.

Yet he wasn't disappointed that the Kusanagi had split into pieces. The bits were a testament of his devotion to Daphne and Hermione. He had no illusions about the true nature of the sword anymore. It forced him away from others, forced him to treat people as if they were below him. _Salazar carried it for thirty years_.

What was this? The Crimson Ruby had been reading his thoughts?

_Yes, I have. I may be less powerful than the Grass Cutting Blade of the Great Snake, but I intend to make you the superior warrior._

He thanked the sword in his mind, and followed Hermione into a compartment happily.

He sat beside the window and Daphne, as usual, and with several whispered words, and a quick wave of his wand, the door was spelled airtight and soundproof.

"The Crimson Ruby is inferior in every way when it comes to combat. It even admits it."

Hermione sighed dispiritedly, but Daphne sensed the hanging _but_ in the background.

"Yet, it is infinitely better."

Hermione perked up and looked at the sword intently. Daphne frowned. Harry rarely used superlatives, after all.

"The Kusanagi shattered when I declared that I would not throw my friends away and walk alone. The Crimson Ruby encourages the opposite. And it is not weakness. Godric Gryffindor was ultimately the better swordsman of the two, even after sixty three years of the Mangekyo Sharingan."

Daphne remembered the conversation they had with no small amount of relief.

"It's probably a good time for you two to learn how to use a sword."

Daphne nodded. Hermione stared bemusedly. "Is this a pureblooded thing?"

"Learning swordplay is a rather noble occupation in the Ancient Houses. A man or even a woman who could hold a sword could hold his seat on the Wizengamot, or her seat as the Lady of the House."

"Yes, but that isn't all. Even the Crimson Ruby is pressing me to... acquire another sword. He does not like me much, I can tell, but believes that even if my personality is unlike Godric's, my cause is too noble to pass up."

"Another sword? In that case, I suppose I want the Crimson Ruby. I haven't got access to any magical swords, which I assume Daphne does." Hermione stared in wonder.

"That's true. There is... a sword in the Greengrass Vault. It hasn't been used for a very long time. How long? There's no record of it, even with the Goblins. It's probably sufficiently powerful, but", Daphne paused, and blushed. "No one can draw it."

"That sounds like a problem we had with the Kusanagi", Harry mused. "I have compiled a list to retrieve over the summer Hols. The Joyeuse of King Charlemange is the first of my objectives..."

**Mangekyo**

Harry put his hand on the Crimson Ruby, willing it to grant him the information about the final battle of Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin. In a moment, he was falling again, thrown from side to side.

_Godric was clearly winning the battle now - his swordsmanship was impeccable and blows were so random and spirited that the Mangekyo couldn't predict it._

_Then it changed in a split second. Salazar stared directly into Godric's eyes and, "Tsukuyomi!"_

_The sword was not brought to the realm that Godric was, instead, it sligthed from Godric's grasp a scant ten seconds. Salazar was stock still, and Godric was twitching slightly. When the seconds ended, he seemed to be clutching his side, no doubt a result of phantom pain._

_Rowena screamed. "How dare you use the Gaze of the Red Moon of all things on him, on any living being?"_

_Salazar looked properly chastised for a moment, and he ducked his head in shame, but immediately parried a shaky blow from Godric once again._

"_Blaze of Merlin, attend me!" Godric screamed, and a cleansing fire invigorated him, bleeding off of him like a Phoenix during its burning day._

_Salazar was now bleeding from his left eye, due to the use of the Tsukuyomi. "Let us compare the flames of the First Blaze to the Flames of the Goddess of Heaven. Amaterasu, burning bright!"_

_A column of dancing flames erupted from his eyes, combating the strength of the First Blaze._

"_That's enough, Godric. I must end this. Susano'o, I command you!"_

_The green and silver mist grew around Salazar again, and he switched his grip on the Kusanagi to his left hand, drawing the Totsuka from an octagonal jar of Sake._

"_Put that away, you", Rowena gritted her teeth, looking all the more beautiful in her anger, "you... you boys!" She spat out the last word like a curse._

_Salazar's Susano'o became less solid for a moment as he gazed at Rowena, who, while easily as old as he at sixty five, seemed to be in her prime, her diadem perched haphazardly on her head. "I can't do that, Princess."_

_Rowena snapped. The only time when he called her Princess was when they were still making love, twenty years past. Her wand snapped forward, and a spell that even Salazar had never seen (Rowena seemed to have a bunch of those), tore straight through the Susano'o and left a smoking hole in his left shoulder. "Don't call me that, Salazar!" She began crying._

_Salazar stared at the wand, and shook his head. For some reason, his eyes simply didn't register the white flash of light. While he could have dodged it, he had relied on Susano'o to block it. He supposed that he deserved it, and turned his attention back to Godric._

_He noticed belatedly that the lapse in attention had brought about his doom. Godric was in the process of releasing the final power of the First Blaze._

_Seven white fires surrounded the other man, burning away his clothing and wand. He had initiated the Trial by Fire, the judging flame of Magic itself._

The sword slipped from Godric's grasp, and Harry was violently jarred from the memory.


	17. The Eyes of the Archbishop's Runes

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor the Mangekyo Sharingan

Be sure to check our my new C2, www. fanfiction. net/ community/ Breaking_ the_ Boundaries_ between_ Worlds_ Good_ Crossovers/ 93077/

**Mangekyo**

As they sat silently on the train (a tradition honored for two years), Harry reviewed memories he had of the Joyeuse, Charlemagne's famous Sword of Smiles. Salazar had named it such when he reviewed the history of its use, and determined that the resting place of the sword was in Aachen, the original capital of the Holy Roman Empire.

The power of the sword was immense, having a King's Prerogative attached to it, the secret charm of Three Disciplines - Dark magic, Neutral magic and the ever-elusive Holy magic that gave him the so-called "right to rule". It was a sword that cut in a different manner than Kusanagi - in that respect it was just as dull as the Crimson Ruby. Yet any wound that was stricken three times would result in the death of the recipient, despite the fact that the wound was on a foot or a shoulder.

The most powerful weapons in the world were forged with the help of the Three Disciplines. Apparently, Excalibur was a collaboration between Merlin and the two Courts. The Balmung was beaten on the World Tree by the forces of good, of evil and humanity. The cryptic notes about the greatest sword of them all spoke of a Three-Point forge in the Cradle which only one man could use every generation, bringing a new meaning to the thought that every generation had a slight chance of changing the world. Harry had no doubt that he would try his hand at that when he learned how to make swords. But for now, there was the Joyeuse to capture.

Salazar had mentioned that even he did not dare to disturb the resting place of the Holy King, but it was nearly a thousand years since then, and enchantments didn't have a very long shelf life, with a marked exception granted to Egyptian Warlords and the Sorcerers of the Indus River.

So here Harry was, planning to break into Aachen Cathedral to retrieve a sword on par with the Kusanagi, and a symbolic representation of what he wanted to achieve. He would not be King, but someone who challenged the world with the mantle of a king.

**Mangekyo**

"Boy!" Vernon shouted.

Harry ignored him, and looked him straight in the eye, his own pupils flashing red and black. His compulsion was well woven, as per normal. "You will not be inquiring as to where I stay this summer. You will not be inquiring as to where I have received money. If you find out anything about me, you will forget it."

"Yes", muttered Vernon. "I'll do so immediately."

With that, Harry dumped his schoolbooks into the cupboard along with his trunk, locked it with a permanent conjuration he'd made at Hogwarts, and winked out of existence, dressed in the clothes of a generic Brit.

He was worried. When Salazar had visited with King Otto the Third in Ten Sixty Two, there had been so many protective enchantments that even the team of One Hundred, the best cursebreakers of the Catholic Church didn't dare infiltrate the tomb proper. The only other tomb that had been afforded so much protection was the tomb of Jesus the Healer, the founder of modern medicine, enchanted by Peter of the Holy See, the greatest Runic Mage in known history - this was, of course, disregarding a lot of non Greco-Roman Curse carriers that held just as much power.

Salazar, while a gifted Sage of many arts, was very weak when it came to Cursebreaking. It had been one of Rowena's specialties, not his. The problem was that while he was very gifted when it came to potionmaking and dueling, he was weaker in more passive, bookish activities.

Harry didn't have that weakness. He'd memorized every Egyptian set in existence, and every Greco-Roman pattern that he'd ever seen.

So he thought he was prepared.

**Mangekyo**

Harry cast a translation charm that he'd memorized and prepared with Hermione by taping a piece of runed Spellotape to his throat. He now had a slight Berlin accent as he walked through the streets of Aachen, chomping on a sort of hamburger. He wasn't very conspicuous, especially since there were so many tourists around, all to see the Cathedral.

He followed the flow of the crowd after finishing the aforementioned hamburger (which was truly excellent), and walked into the Cathedral.

As he entered, a hood was drawn over his head, and his eyes began spinning rapidly. He stared at a mirror for a moment, and was relieved to see that his eyes had not turned gold again since the encounter with the White Phoenix.

There was magic in the Cathedral, an intense amount of magic. It was primordial, earthy, and smelt of ozone to his nose. _Nordic rune arrays_. Harry cursed under his breath. He had come fully prepared to rip into Greco-Roman and even Egyptian runes, but Nordic runes contested with Sumerian runes in terms of difficultly. They were the Original runes, the first of which were carved into the bark of the Yggdrasil, and the other onto the Great River Rock where the Tigris and Euphrates met.

Harry was just glad it wasn't the second set. At least he had some experience with the placement, and "taste" of Nordic runes. All the books he read and the examples he drew were somewhat helpful, because an experience Rune master knew the feeling and consistency of the hum of magic that permeated the air when it came to magic.

_There!_ The patch in the wall that was covered in a huge tapestry glowed faintly under the power of his Mangekyo Sharingan. Harry had no illusions about his actual cursebreaking abilities - without his eyes, he'd be another extremely well read twelve year old.

But the Mangekyo Sharingan made all the difference in the world. He didn't act his age at all - opting instead to assume the mantle of someone well-versed in all the sorrows that plagued the world. His ability to see magic, copy magic, and instinctively know magic was something he wouldn't trade away. He was currently weaving a very powerful illusion over the crowd, causing them to pay attention to nothing but the huge cross hung at the center of the back wall, leaving the tapestry to one boy.

He slashed at the tapestry with the Crimson Ruby, nullifying one of the nastier enchantments that was intent based, and it fell away, revealing a four-dimensional rune matrix. He cursed rather loudly. A one dimensional rune matrix would be a single line of runes running across an object, providing rudimentary support. A two dimensional rune matrix created a square or rectangular grid that simultaneously defended the weaker runes that had more firepower and provided strength to runes that were weak but sturdy. A three dimensional rune matrix worked on the same principles, but created a lattice that circled around the inside of the protected wall, or around the entire warded object.

A four dimensional rune matrix could only be created with the help of dimension breaking magic - Time Turners, Kamui of the Kaleidoscope, the Polygon Fold that could be cast by joining two of the Three Disciplines, and things that violated the very nature of the universe. That also meant that he would have to...

"Kamui." Harry sank into another dimensional fold, and his eyes adjusted, perceiving the various strands that held the tapestry together.

The runes were the height of arrogance - stitched together, it spelled out 'Created by Turpin, the Archbishop Durban of the Almace'.

That was not to say it wasn't effective. Each time he prodded a rune with a drop of pure magic from his wand, it rebuffed it easily.

Harry frowned, and created a small incision on his left palm, and ran his wand over it, then, "Avada Kedavra!"

He had never used the Killing Curse before, but he knew that he didn't have the ill intent that was necessary for it. Instead, he drew on the misery of those who had murdered coldly, and on his own blood to stabilize the spell. The green light, travelling through subdimensional space, ripped a hole in an abnormally weak section of the ward, triggering a cascading collapse that petered out.

All that was left after Harry had hit the so-called "sweet spot" of the ward were remnants of magic and he stepped forward.

It was a mistake. There was a tinkling sound, and suddenly, a burst of white light, moving at speeds that Harry couldn't dodge in the confined space of the tapestry hole skewered him in the right collarbone and came out of his shoulder blade. Harry screamed in pain and slipped into Kamui space again, where the beams of light were unable to hit him, and he fell to the floor, with a hand clutching the Crimson Ruby.


	18. The Eyes of the Wiser Ones

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor the Mangekyo Sharingan

Author's Note: I somewhat neglected this in favor of The Master of Death and The Seal and the Sword, but that's going to change - observe. New Chapter! I'm not getting as many reviews as I used to... so please tell me what you think. I treat all your suggestions as gold, because I'm not the greatest writer in the world, and I really enjoy receiving criticism.

By the way, 100 thousand hits! Thank you very much, FFn!

Check out my newest fic, a Naruto/Claymore crossover at www. fanfiction. net /s/ 7094463

It's probably of a higher quality than any of my other fics, but it is (going to be) a lot darker, so if you can't stomach that... Otherwise, please go and read it - I've assumed that you haven't read/seen Claymore in that. As usual, my review-rules apply. If you review with something substantial, or a question, I'll answer it to the best of my ability :P

**Mangekyo**

Harry groaned as he realized that there was now a hole the size of a pence piece in his torso. On the bright side, it was not only cauterized, but it didn't pierce any vital organs, just a pair of bones and muscles... that were vital to motion in his right arm. Any use of it was excruciating - the muscles that generally took the strength and the tendons had simply ceased to exist.

This was bad. He knew, in a moment of fear, that he was unable to draw his most powerful weapon, the Totsuka. He struggled with the Sake Jar even when he was well rested and completely healthy.

"Susano'o." Harry charged forward, intent on procuring the Joyeuse, and ended up tripping two more traps, both of which missed him, but managed to pierce the Storm God.

Needless to say, he used Kamui to return to Privet Drive immediately, completely demoralized due to both his failure and the hole in his shoulder. He briefly reviewed his memories of great centers of healing.

After several winces that were the result of writing with his right hand, he had compiled a small list of the best Healers in the world. Shamen on the Kenyan plain, Magicians of the Indus Valley, and Wise Men on the Yellow River. They each had a good chance of being able to heal him, but the Indus Valley mages were the most knowledgeable in Salazar's time, and the easiest to locate, as they weren't nomads as the Shamen were, nor did they live on boats as the Wise Men did.

"Kamui", he whispered, wincing.

The streets of Hyderabad, the renowned City of Pearls, was crowded as Salazar's memories indicated. It had been a thousand years, but the vivid visions of gold and carpets, as well as cloth weaving stalls were apparent. He was hardly the only westerner there - there were tourists everywhere.

But he was one of the only people who knew exactly where he was heading, and how to get there.

The huge Healer's Guild was world renowned, even in Salazar's time, among wizards, at least. Harry was sure that they would charge exorbitant fees...

He knocked three times. "Open, for the sick, the weary, and the needy with gold ready to give. Open, for the unhealthy, the diseased, and the wanting with money to fill your coffers. Open, for the pestilent, the damaged and the desperate with economic recompense in exchange for services."

The door opened immediately.

"I did not think that I would have been opening the door for an Englishman. Imagine my surprise when he came to the door with the Ninefold Demand, which hadn't been heard at this gate since the death of Arcus the American."

"Greetings, Master Healer", Harry bowed. They were all Master Healers, even the doorkeepers. "I seek a cure for an injury I have suffered while retrieving a relic of long past."

"What was the nature of the relic?" the man asked, rather sharply. The boy in front of him must have been very close to India when he attempted a tomb raid of sorts, right?

"The Joyeuse of King Charlemange."

The Healer may not have known a lot about Western magical practices, but any mage who could read had heard of Charlemange.

"What in the name of Shiva... you're what? Ten years old?" his accent became noticeably thicker as he became distressed.

"I assure you, I am a capable Wardbreaker. It's just that I have less experience with Nordic series, and whatever managed to pierce my best defenses."

"Show me your shoulder."

"Is it that obvious?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Only to an experienced Healer, young one", the man said.

Harry removed his T-shirt, which had been monstrously difficult to get on, gingerly, and the man stared at the wound.

"Oh, of all things. Of course Charlemange would use _this_ to protect his tomb. Who cast it, do you know?"

"Yes, it was a four dimensional ward matrix, created by the Archbishop Turpin, one of Charlemange's Paladins."

"How did you break a four dimensional- never mind, I don't even want to know. You can cure it by overwhelming the magic used to cast it. If you want more people to help you, the essential point is trust. Up to three people can come together to cure this", the Healer said, jotting things down in immaculate lettering.

_So much for stereotypes about doctors having bad handwriting_, Harry thought, as he read the rather complicated instructions.

"The big question is whether you have the power to overwhelm Archbishop Turpin himself. From the legends, he was a comparatively weak Paladin, but still much more powerful than your average wizard or witch. It may be years until you gain the magical power to do this yourself. Remember, however, you must trust the people you do this with, or the magical backlash will kill all of you."

The runic array was actually rather obvious about that fact.

"Many great men..." the Healer began, "and I know you'll be great. There is no doubt about it, able to combat four dimensional rune arrays at an age when I was drooling on my hand, sleeping in class. Many great men trust nobody. It is the will of magic for many of what we believe to be positive emotions to be experienced. I can tell that you've had a difficult life. You have old eyes, eyes that seem to have seen too much. Don't lose yourself to the same thing that other great men do. Learn to trust."

"I do trust."

"Not enough."

"Probably not..."

**Mangekyo**

The Kamui had brought Harry to an open field that was several miles away from the Hogwarts Express tracks around where England met Scotland.

He had come here to commune with the Crimson Ruby, which was stuck into the dirt, and he sat cross-legged in front of it.

"Why are you so useless?" he wondered out loud.

"I'm sorry", the Sword whispered. It was capable of speech, like the Kusanagi, but it spoke in English.

"You're pathetic. You can't cut anything. The Kusanagi-"

"Can you please stop? It's not as if I wanted to be useless. I was good enough for Godric Gry-"

"The only reason you were good enough for Godric was because he had the First Blaze to compensate for all of his, and your, failures. I am a son of the Peverell line, gifted and cursed with the Sharingan Eye. I am possibly related to Salazar Slytherin. The Kusanagi was perfect for me."

"I was not the one who broke the Kusanagi. The Kusanagi was malicious, and the only person to wield it properly was Sujin, who had to find himself in the Mirror of Yata for as long as he used it. When you broke free of its influence-"

"It broke free of me."

"Why do you blame me, master? I just want to serve you."

Harry looked away, partially in shame and partially in disgust. "You're so... submissive. I want a strong sword, one that's unafraid of telling me its opinion, one that doesn't beg for forgiveness!"

"I-I know I'm not the Kusanagi, and I never will be. There are... several swords much more powerful than the Kusanagi. Why don't you-"

"You expect a thirteen year old to wield the Ea of King Gilgamesh himself?"

"Master..."

"Save it, Ruby. You're a failure. I'm a failure. I was unable to procure-"

"The Joyeuse. Sh-she is as weak as I am. I don't understand, Master. If anyone, had us, they would cherish us and treat us with-"

"Respect? I am a Wizard before I am a swordsman, and an owner of the Kaleidoscopic Eyes, first of all."

"Master..."

Harry felt rather bad now. The sound that issued forth from the Crimson Ruby was so doleful and- He started. He had forgotten exactly how sentient the sword was. "I'm sorry, Ruby."

"Please. Don't throw me away like I know you're planning to. But... if you are... Seek the Caledfwich. Seek the right of the Conquering King. Seek... Excalibur."

**Mangekyo**

The Lake Avalon was beautiful. There was no other way to describe it.

But it was crowded. Harry's Kaleidoscope picked up on strands of magic more powerful and terrible than any he had seen before - magic that dwarfed the tomb of Charlemange.

"Kamui."

In an instance, he knew he had made a mistake of sorts.

The Fae were creatures with unique connections to the strands of Space and Time. While the Kamui was powerful enough to fold space, folding time required a much more powerful technique that Harry did not dare use - the Izanagi. Aside from the guaranteed blindness, it was very, very difficult to use.

"What are you doing here?" came a voice so pure it almost hurt Harry's ears to listen to. He felt a bit of liquid run down the side of his face, and realized that he had been damaged by it. His Mangekyo Sharingan picked up on the waves of magic headed towards him that would have easily put him to sleep, or worse, and he disassembled it.

"I was dimension-breaking. I'm going to go now."

"No you aren't. Not until you tell me a story."

It was a little girl. Or at least, what seemed like a little girl. She could be well over thirty, three hundred or even three thousand years old.

Harry wanted to leave, but he decided that if he did, there might be space-time repercussions. It was clear that the Fae girl had a very, very large share of magic, and a good idea as to how to use it.

"Okay. Once... there was a boy named Harry. Before he could walk... he discovered what it meant to be in pain... he discovered Misery..."

**Mangekyo**

"And so, he stands in a realm that is not his own, telling a story to a Fae girl who has more power than he ever would, trying to discover the location of Excalibur."

He didn't know what made him truthful. Perhaps it was the story itself, but he didn't sense any magic. Perhaps it was the advice of a wise Healer from Hyderabad. Perhaps it was what he needed the most.

The Fae girl looked rather amused. "I'm glad you told me such a long and interesting story. I'm sorry I'm not the keeper of Excalibur, and I don't want to disturb the Lady of Lake Avalon, but I can give you a gift, a gift that will last... forever. Perhaps one day you will be my equal."

She was suddenly in front of him, so quickly that his Mangekyo had trouble keeping up.

"You... you are not suited for deception, trickery... You are suited for heroism. You are... a King." And then, she darted forth, and kissed him on the right eye.

Immediately, magic older and deeper than he had ever felt before lanced into the eye, augmenting it in such a way he could not believe. The world slowed even further, and he realized that his control over the Black Flames had increased to such an extent that it would not damage him when he used it.

"I have... the power to make dreams real, Harry. Do you accept the Right Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan?"

"Yes. Yes I do."

"Do you accept that you are within my debt?"

Harry knew that Fae debts were serious business indeed, but...

"Yes. Y-yes I do."

"Do you accept the promise that I will never seek to harm you, as long as you have more stories to tell me?"

"Yes. Yes I do."

"Very well. I believe this is a good time for you to _go home_."

Somehow, the strand of magic that left her fingers and entered his left eye activated the Kamui, and brought him into the cupboard under the stairs at Number Four, Privet Drive.


	19. The Eyes of Eternity

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor the Mangekyo Sharingan

Author's Note: Shorter chapter coming up, but I couldn't resist the cliffy. Heh.

Check out my newest fic, which is much better written than this, a Naruto/Claymore crossover at www. fanfiction. net /s/ 7094463

**Mangekyo**

The Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan was truly the next level.

The difference between a normal eye and the Single Tomoe was immense. The difference between the various Tomoe were slightly less the original jump.

But the Mangekyo Sharingan was so much more powerful than the Three Tomoe Sharingan, Harry thought it would have been impossible. The Mangekyo Sharingan perceived the world twice as quickly, and gave him a whole slew of abilities that he would have never dreamed of.

The difference between the jump was specialization.

Harry's right Eye would never be damaged again, even if he spewed the flames of Shining Heaven from it for hours. There was a seemingly inexhaustible conversion process that somehow converted his magic, and a small amount of his body fat, into much more magic that he had originally. It was a pity that the only use of this fount of power was his right Eye.

The flames of Amaterasu burned many times as heatedly, and many times quicker. Harry was confident that it could match the abilities of the First Blaze now. It was superior to Albus Dumbledore's selection in so many ways. It didn't drain him to use it, and it seemed to burn longer.

Yet the drawbacks grew more pronounced. His ability to see Misery extended to the little unfortunate events that plagued everyday life. He could see shame, horror, and shock now. And his experiences grew so intense that it were as if the events were occurring as he viewed them - to him.

Worse yet was the fact that he was completely unable to turn it off, and no illusion or glamour worked on it - it was simply too powerful - not even one cast by his left eye could obscure it. The best he could do was cast a general notice-me-not around himself, but that was very, very annoying to shop with.

He decided that he would never wear an eyepatch, or anything that actually covered his eye. It would be cumbersome to remove when the time came.

"I suppose I'm going to be called into Dumbledore's office, eh?" he asked a bathroom mirror. "At least I don't have to make nice any more. I don't need the First Blaze, not with this." He blinked rapidly, and resisted the urge to burn the entirety of Little Whinging into ash.

Several days later, he had made the decision to retrieve the Joyeuse once more.

"Kamui."

Several notice-me-not charms later, he was once again behind the tapestry that contained the passage to Charlemange's tomb.

"Amaterasu." Flames, hotter than any in existence with a single exception, poured out of his right eye, and incinerated every rune array that the Archbishop had put up. It was so powerful that it absorbed the Cascading Collapses and Explosive Failures that would have killed everyone in the city of Aachen.

Harry walked forwards slowly, his black Flames melting the marble itself of the tomb. Finally, it consumed everything but the marble tomb itself, and the sword which been sunk into the area above Charlemange's head.

It was a magnificent piece - possibly still weaker than the Kusanagi, but definitely of greater strength than the Crimson Ruby.

The Flames burned away the rest of the enchantments placed around the tomb, and the pristine marble immediately began to show its age. The Joyeuse stayed just as pristine and perfect as it had been.

Harry took it, but he was instantly as disappointed as Ruby had told him he would be.

There was power, but there was no spark. The sword was regal as swords came, but the was no hidden strength - it was all described in detail along the blade.

It was a sword as subtle as a hammer.

Harry let out a groan of disgust. For once, however, he didn't complain. If he hadn't tried to attack Turpin's wards with an incomplete eye, he would have never met the Master Healer. He would have attacked to run, or tell an uninteresting story to the Fae.

He would not have received the Eternal Right Mangekyo Sharingan, which was worth the nearly permanently ruined shoulder.

He looked on the Crimson Ruby again, and put his hand around the handle. "Very well. You win, this time."

**Mangekyo**

"So, do you have any idea as to how I can hide this eye?"

"What do you mean, hide this-" Hermione stared for a moment. "It's different!" she exclaimed.

"Yes. I have acquired an Eternal Kaleidoscope."

"But how?" she asked.

They were sitting on a park bench several streets away from Hermione's home. Harry looked around, and created a magical distortion field - a new power of his, that nullified all magic within the bubble, except for that of the Eye itself, and he cast a layered Notice-me-Not charm around the bubble. To someone who wasn't both proficient at wardbreaking and had an innate sense of magic, they were quite invisible. Somewhere in Norther Scotland, a silver device of Albus Dumbledore's exploded, indicating that Harry Potter had died.

"I went to Avalon."

"No. No no no _no_. You arrogant, utter piece of-"

"I was looking to take up the Sword of the Crown."

"Harry James _Potter_", she screeched.

"Am I not worthy?" He sat back, a look of melancholy apparent on his face.

"It's not that. I certainly think you are-"

"Yet-"

"Yet I am not the one who is the judge of that. You're noble, to an extent. You have the same drive, the same courage, that a King of Britain would have. But that's just my opinion, and I know I'm biased." Hermione turned red. "I really like you, and you know it. I can't tell you whether or not the Fae would judge you the same way I would."

The was a silence, as Harry's eyes narrowed slightly. Hermione knew that he wasn't actually mad at her, but she still felt bad to watch Harry's remaining green eye nearly tear up in frustration.

"I owe her a debt. For the Eternal Kaleidoscope."

"You fool", Hermione began, after some time. "You fool." Her voice was resigned, and sympathetic more than anything else. "When the time comes, you cannot waver in repaying the debt."

"I might owe more debts soon. I will have to take the Sword."

Several tears found their way down the contours of Hermione's face, and Harry was seized with an inexplicable urge to wipe them away.

**Mangekyo**

The Joyeuse was entombed in the subspace of Kamui, of his body, so that it might travel with him, and the Crimson Ruby stayed at his side when he finally boarded the Hogwarts Express.

Harry had obscured his right eye with bangs that had a mild notice-me-not charm on them, which seemed to be the only thing with the ability to conceal his Eternal Kaleidoscope.

"Harry, my boy!" came the voice of Albus Dumbledore. "You've made an old man worry, indeed!"

"Why would you be worried, sir?" Harry asked. There was no way that his activities could be traced back to him, was there?

"No reason", Dumbledore trailed off. Already, people were staring. It wasn't often that Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter (with the sword of Gryffindor, no less) appeared at King's Cross station.

"Chief Warlock, are you here because of the threat posed by Sirius Black?"

"Chief Warlock, do you believe that Sirius Black will be attacking the Hogwarts Express?"

"Now, now. I am quite old, and I have much work to do. I regret to inform you that I cannot stay for questions." With a slight pop, he vanished, amid shouted questions and growing paranoia.

Harry settled into the compartment with Daphne and Hermione already waiting, and locked the door with a charm he had seen Flitwick perform nearly two years ago. "Now, will someone tell me who this Sirius Black person is?"

"Oh, he was said to be Voldemort's right hand man during the war. He masqueraded as a servant of Albus Dumbledore, according to my father, but ultimately betrayed him. There's little known about what he really did, besides the killing thirteen muggles with a Blasting Curse", Daphne rolled on to talk about the Black family, with lively contributions from Harry about Loxias, the Dark Lord who expired just before the turn of the century.

After nearly thirty minutes of talking (a record for their trips on the Hogwarts Express), they lapsed into a companionable silence. Daphne had rested her head on Harry's chest and began to slumber. Harry found himself smiling, and playing with her flaxen hair, as he listened to Hermione's slow reading of Hogwarts, A History, which none of them were truly paying attention to.

In several hours, Hermione had drifted off too, and Harry was beginning to feel the tendrils of col-

He shot up, waking Daphne, as he realized, belatedly, that there were tendrils of magic reaching into their compartment.

"Get up, there's an enchantment at work", Harry said, as he easily snipped the strands of magic that seemed to sap at them. "Occlumency shields at full power. This is a mind based attack. There's a very nasty spell at work."

At that moment, someone tried to push their way into the compartment. Harry's locking spell easily held. As a response, something slammed into the lock, blowing it towards Harry, whose left eye was yet to be activated.

The flying lock might as well been floating slowly. Harry grabbed it out of the air, and with a magically charged throw, sent it rocketing through the compartment door faster than either Hermione or Daphne could follow, all the while dismantling the strands of magic, which had become shards of sorts.

Unfortunately, the physical attack didn't faze the huge cloaked thing that floated in.

Despite the fact that whatever the shards and strands were supposed to do were useless in the face of Harry's Eternal eye, Daphne screamed. "Dementor! That thing can suck your soul out! It's supposed to make you feel cold and helpless, but- oh, thank you, Harry", she mumbled, and hugged him.

"You are an abomination", Harry told the creature clearly, his right Eye spinning at impossible speeds. A huge well of power built up within it, and then-

"Amaterasu."

**Mangekyo**

The Powers of the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan:

Madara's Left Eye - The 5 minutes of invincibility, space-time teleportation, t3h ultimat3 g3njutsu skillz.

Harry's Right Eye - Flames that rival the power of the First Blaze (which you should know about, if you're this far into my story), and the ability to create a magic-cancellation field, in which _only_ the powers of the Eyes can function, for a limited amount of time.

Shared - If existent, greater control over the Susano'o. Twice the processing power of the Mangekyo proper, which perceives things roughly fifteen or sixteen times faster than they happen. Much, much more empathy - other negative emotions can also be seen, such as shame or horror, besides the original Misery.


	20. The Eyes of a Furious Teacher

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor the Mangekyo Sharingan

Author's Note: Shorter chapter coming up, but I couldn't resist the cliffy. Heh.

Check out my newest fic, a Naruto/Claymore crossover at www. fanfiction. net /s/ 7094463

A word of warning, though - it's hard to stomach now, and it'll possibly harder to stomach when events unfold, so if you dislike tragedy very much, don't read that. But still leave a review for that. *wink*

**Mangekyo**

The huge black flames that billowed out of Harry's right eye were, for once, stopped.

In fact, they were pulled directly into the creature's mouth, not even burning its dirty, ragged cloak.

"What?" Harry muttered.

The tendrils of magic jumping forth grew in intensity and speed, but it was still no match for Harry's Eternal eye, which quickly dissected them.

"Mangekyo Sharingan", he whispered, activating his other eye, as he threw up an anti-magic barrier around them.

The creature tore at the barrier, unable to enter, but damaging it. Harry wasn't very concerned. He was able to hold it up as long as he would live, by using his body itself as fuel. A single pound of his flesh would be able to generate enough magical power to hold it up for nearly a year. It would take less than a drop of blood to hold it off for several hours.

"Tsukuyomi", he whispered, fascinated. The huge Legilimenic probe slammed into the creature, and Harry was awarded with a huge dosage of Misery - not that he couldn't handle it. It was around the same amount of Misery his eyes gathered latently in a week.

"Well, I know you're not human, so I have no qualms about... _Kamui_."

The dimensional rip pulled the creature in, and transported him into the void itself, doubtlessly destroying it.

"What was that, Daphne?"

"A d-dementor. It is the personification of depression. It takes happy memories and feeds on them, leaving nothing but despair."

Harry thought for a moment. "That would be why it could absorb the Flames of Shining Heaven, created from the pinnacle of emotion itself, and use it to strengthen its own power. It is a formidable creature indeed. What do other wizards use to combat it?"

Daphne thought for a moment. "I don't know, but I'd imagine it were some sort of shield, because my mother hinted that no dementor has ever been destroyed. Before today, at least."

"Yes, the Kamui is quite powerful. It's too bad that it is far too difficult to use in a duel, or any other moving target. Perhaps I should test the limits of it. It is, after all, the least damaging of the powers accorded to the Mangekyo."

"Wouldn't an Eternal left eye would have been better?" Hermione suddenly spoke up.

"That is possibly the case. Unfortunately, the Fae don't believe so." Harry narrowed his eyes. "And they know best." He blinked twice.

"Don't resent them. They know", Daphne said. Harry's eyes narrowed further.

**Mangekyo**

"I'm looking forward to a more normal year. With this injury, it'd be impossible do a lot of the things that I wanted to, so I suppose the majority of it will be spent studying with the help of my Eternal eye."

Daphne nodded, absentmindedly adding Gurdyroots into her Cleansing Draught. Snape hovered next to them. "Professor, exactly what do these Gurdyroots do? They're not in any of our textbooks, or even the supplements."

"I acquired them from Xenophilius Lovegood. While they may seem useless, it is an invaluable buffer, much cheaper than Professor Shakur's Compton Number Four solution."

"Ahh, that's why it replaced the Burnham's Iodine-Germanium mix."

"Yes, the B.I.G. mix is slightly inferior to it. It is easier, I must admit", Snape smirked, "to trust a fellow Englishman, than to use anything from Burnham Boys Productions, or a company with the slogan Potions Life."

"May I speak to you after class, Professor?"

"Yes."

"Goddamn it! These Gurdyroots are so hard to cut."

"Language, Ms. Greengrass."

Half an hour later, Snape dismissed the Third Year students, and sat down at his desk. "I noticed that your right eye is covered."

"There is no easy way to say this, Professor, so I suppose I should show you instead." Harry pushed his hair out of the way to reveal the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan.

"The design has changed."

"Mangekyo Sharingan." Harry paused to let Snape compare the two. "This is the Eternal Kaleidoscope, an eye of far greater power than the original. It had enough strength to completely incinerate the four-dimensional wards, and absorb the backlash. The flames are far more versatile, and I am capable of creating an anti-magic field that will nullify all directed enchantments or charms, rendering spells cast at me useless."

"How was it obtained, Harry?" If there had been eavesdroppers, they would have assumed that Snape had used Harry's first name by accident, but they both knew better. When Snape used his first name, he was speaking to Lily's son, and not Harry Potter.

"I made a deal."

"A demon?" Snape asked, rather sharply. These _were_ the Eyes of Misery after all, and it stood to reason that a demon would have the power to unlock the Eternal form.

"No. Worse. Fae", Harry said grimly.

Snape threw a Gurdyroot against the bare wall to his right. The purplish onion-cabbage thing splattered. "You stupid little _boy_. How did you find such a powerful Fae to begin with." He suddenly paled. "No. You didn't. The Divine Might, Kamui. You _imbecile_. _Where_?" he shouted.

"Avalon."

"The _stronghold_ of Faerie folk. Lake Avalon itself. The point of compromise between the Courts. One of the Three Great Nexus points. You broke into the most well guarded of all Faerie shrines with the Kamui, and proceeded to receive a gift from a member of a race whose power created the very notions of time and space. _What for_?" Snape's voice climbed in pitch, and volume.

"I wanted the Sword of the Crown."

"You went and broke into Avalon because you wanted to Take it Up? _Potter_, you arrogant whelp..."

"I must confess that I was forgetful of the dangers that they posed in regards to time. There is a way to break through time itself if they truly kept me..." Harry trailed off.

"At what price?"

Harry didn't answer, then looked downwards. "My left eye."

"You were willing you sacrifice a Mangekyo for a little _romp_ into Avalon?"

"As I said, I was forgetful." Harry began to grow angry. He had been chastised enough. He narrowed his eyes, and blinked rapidly.

Snape, however, did not continue his yelling, despite not seeing Harry's reaction. He calmed visibly as he cleaned the Gurdyroot off his office wall.

"What do you owe the Fae for giving you such a powerful piece of magic?"

"A story", Harry said, then grimaced again, feeling rather guilty. "And a favor."

"How open-ended is this request?"

"Completely so."

"Get out."

Harry complied.

**Mangekyo**

Harry looked ready to cry.

Hermione and Daphne looked on sympathetically as Harry dropped his sword for the eighth time, the Crimson Ruby clattering to the floor as he clutched his shoulder.

Harry's face was white with pain - and his remaining green eye was glacial, showing that Harry wasn't just polite and relatively strong - his will burned with an intensity that was very hard to match. His Eternal eye spun rapidly, and once in a while, a small gout of flame jumped between the black and the red.

He sat down, and began reading, sinking Ruby into the stone floor. His wand flicked this way and that way, shattering several pieces of broken furniture.

"This is really bad", he said quietly, his eyes narrowed, and glistening.

"The ritual... are you sure we can't just get Professor Snape to help with it? He seems willing to do so", Daphne said.

"It requires two people I trust. I trust you two the most. Snape doesn't trust me... Either that will go very bad for him, or aggravate my wound, or worse. He is only allied to us out of respect for my mother."

"He seems trustworthy though, and if you combine your magic with his, I'm sure you'll be able to overpower the Archbishop's spell."

"I'm not even sure how powerful the Archbishop was. Charlemange was said to be intensely powerful, and while he was the magically weakest of all the Paladins, it'll stand to reason that he'd have to be able."

"But that would mean that you'd have that injury for years, if you have to match him", Daphne said, despairing.

"Power draughts", said Hermione quietly.

"Exactly. Huge temporary boosts to our magic that last between two and three minutes that can only be used once every full moon. Priced at thirty five hundred galleons when you brew it yourself, and ten thousand if you buy it made. However, with the use of a Gurdyroot, we can cut down on the price by nearly a thousand galleons. The amount of Shakur's Compton solution that must be used is astounding. If we extract the buffer from the Gurdyroot instead, and use the ingredients from Snape's private stores, which he has agreed to already, I will only have to buy the crushed unicorn hoof and the dragon sinew."

"How long does it take to extract the buffer from the Gurdyroots?"

"Buffer extraction takes six months from most magical herbs, such as Adrigal, or Twillit Leaves."

"That's a long time to have a damaged arm", Daphne supplied.

"What else can I do?" Harry wondered. "What else?"


	21. The Eyes of a Faerie

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor the Mangekyo Sharingan

Check out my newest fic, a Naruto/Claymore crossover at www. fanfiction. net /s/ 7094463

**Mangekyo**

Professor Lupin's class was quickly becoming one of his favorites. Harry didn't know if it was because the man seemed to treat everyone, regardless of House, with a kind of geniality that many of the other teachers lacked, or if it was because he was competent, unlike the other two samples.

Unfortunately, Harry wasn't sure that he, too, wasn't possessed. There was a cloud of snapping silver magic surrounding him, jumping all over him. If Harry had to describe it, he would call it feral.

"Today, class, we'll be looking at Boggarts. Who can tell me what a Boggart is? Ms. Granger?"

"A Boggart is a creature that has the ability to show us our worse fears. They are generally found in dark places like closets, and attics, and can be defeated by laughter."

"Five points to Gryffindor, Ms. Granger. Now, step lively!" Lupin said rather energetically, as he threw a trunk open.

A formless mist (coated in magic) poured out of it, and fired strands of sickly yellow magic at them. Harry frowned, snapping the single strand that darted towards him easily.

The others weren't so able. The strands wrapped around people like a turban, and squeezed. What could only be memories and emotions travelled back to the Boggart as if it were drinking from them.

Harry decided that the creature must not be very dangerous if Lupin was exposing them to the Boggart, but he still did not allow the creature's mind-based attack to reach him. His classmates seemed to be oblivious to what was truly occurring.

Suddenly, the previously formless mist took the shape of a huge spider. Harry could see the obvious signs of a magical construct - the edges were blurry, and when he closed his left eye, it was spectral in appearance. Anyone with sufficient depth perception could see that it wasn't really a spider at all.

That didn't keep Ronald Weasley from screaming loudly, and hugging himself, looking very small indeed, on the ground.

Harry shrugged. While Ronald Weasley was the perfect example of what a man wasn't, he supposed that having your greatest fear confront you must be harrowing indeed.

"Now, with the use of the spell Riddikulus while thinking of something funny will result in the boggart assuming such a form."

Harry raised his eyebrows as Hermione jumped forward eager. The coil around her mind tightened, and he watched mildly horrified.

The boggart morphed into _him_ and Daphne. He was on the ground, looking a bit older, without a shirt on, with a fist sized hole in his shoulder, and blood was pouring out of his eyes. Daphne's face was white, and she was glaring at Hermione.

"It's your fault, isn't it! If you'd just trusted him a bit more, if you'd just trust me a bit more, _this_ wouldn't have happened", not-Daphne shouted.

Hermione gave a choked sob and sank to her knees. "I'm s-so sorry Harry", she said, completely oblivious to the fact that the real Harry was no more than three meters away from her.

"Sorry isn't good enough. Now he's-" Daphne turned her stormy eyes down to the figure of not-Harry. "He's-"

Not-Daphne gave a wailing cry. "He's dead." Daphne pulled the not-Crimson Ruby that hadn't existed until she reached for it, and charged at Hermione, whose head was bowed, prepared to meet her death.

"That's quite enough", Harry said, putting himself between the illusion and Hermione, snapping the hundreds of web-like protrusions between Hermione and the boggart, and letting a strand touch his head.

He lowered his Occulmency shields (which Hermione must have also done). Despite their flimsiness, they had been easily keeping the Boggart out.

The boggart morphed into a very familiar little Fae girl.

She smiled rather cruelly at him.

"As to your debt, Harry, for the price of Eternity, you will", she leaned forward conspiratorially, and her voice dropped to a loud, malicious whisper. "You will serve me. Your first order is to kill them both."

Harry's eyes widened, and he narrowed his eyes. Before he could stop himself, he had cloven the boggart in twain with the Crimson Ruby, splitting the creature in half, and snapping the connection it had to him. It became formless mist once again.

He stepped back, scooping Hermione up and carrying her bridal-style, with the back of her head against the crook of his elbow. "That's quite enough excitement for me, Professor. Would you mind if I brought her to the hospital wing?"

"S-sure, Mr. Potter", Lupin said, feeling as if he were intruding on a private moment between two of his students. He steeled himself, regaining the majority of his authority. "Get her to Madame Pomfrey."

Harry walked slowly through the empty corridors, carrying the relatively light girl.

"I'm so sorry, Harry. I don't mean to be a burden and-"

"Shhh. You're not a burden, Hermione. If you're quiet, you can hear the sound of my devotion to you." Harry smiled sheepishly.

Hermione shifted slightly, a happy smile on her face.

**Mangekyo**

"There's nothing wrong with her, is there?" Daphne wondered.

"Not that Madame Pomfrey can see, but she's still going to be in the hospital wing for a day."

"I've begun the task of steeping the cut up Gurdyroot in a tincture. It'll be ready within three months. Then we can begin the distillation process."

"Do you think we can speed it up by adding heat?"

"No. I actually tried it, and it became rather acidic. It's a real shame." Daphne took a breath, and pushed her hair out of her eyes. "How's your shoulder?"

"Not much better", Harry said gruffly.

"I'll get some painkillers for you from Madame Pomfrey", Daphne said, giving him a hug, which was more of a grope than anything, and a kiss on the cheek. Harry felt his face heat up despite himself. She walked out of the room quickly, quite embarrassed herself.

Harry stared at the hilt of the Crimson Ruby when he suddenly heard a voice behind him.

"I'm not here to collect yet, but I'm supposed to warn you three times before I do so. So here's the first warning."

Harry didn't even turn around. "Hello. How are you doing? My three months have been quite uneventful. I've read more in-depth stuff about early Magical British History, and learned about the exploits of the Black family. The trust is there if I want to heal my arm, but the power isn't."

"Would you like me to heal your arm?"

"What would the price be?" Harry asked, finally looking into the Fae girl's eyes. They were, as the Healer said, old eyes. Old did not begin to cover how much experience, benevolence and malice were hidden in the depths of the violet orbs.

"Your soul, of course", she replied, giggling softly.

"You have my soul already", Harry said, without a trace of humor.

"That's not entirely true. I can't compel you to do something that you really shouldn't, like kill your Daphne, or your Hermione. Unless you want me to heal your shoulder?" she asked.

Harry shook his head again. "What are you here to warn me about?"

"Oh, the nature of your debt. In a year and a day from when I gave you the Eyes of Eternity, I will come to collect."

"Is that all of the warning?"

"Oh yes. The next warning will be a bit more specific, and the third one will be equivalent to what you call a briefing."

"Why don't you brief me now?" Harry asked, feeling rather nonplussed.

"Oh, but what's the fun in that?" the Fae girl said, leaping gently into Harry's lap, and looking up in his eyes. She ran her hand over the right side of his face. "You're so brave..."

Harry narrowed his eyes on principle, though he didn't feel threatened in the slightest. That wasn't good - it meant he was possibly in a lot of danger.

"You would make a good human lover, wouldn't you?" the Fae girl continued.

Harry's eyes widened in alarm, and he blinked rapidly.

"Now, I won't use the debt for _that_, even though I can, of course. I can have you stay with me forever, but..." the Fae girl sighed, "there's more than one prophecy about _you_. You should feel honored. You're really, really special."

Of course, Harry knew that he was special, but he wasn't aware of the other things. "What prophecies?"

"Oh, there's one major one, and two or three very minor ones. They're not actually world-splitting, ocean-roiling, or even that important. They're very vague, meaning they might not happen at all. But there are strands of gold in the weave, meaning that anyone who interferes too much will come to a sticky end."

"But what do they say?" Harry wondered.

"I could tell you for a price", she said, smirking slightly.

"No thank you", Harry responded rather immediately.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay with me for all of eternity after you're done fulfilling whatever needs to be done?" the Fae girl said. "I can show you beauty that no mortals have ever encountered. I can give you power beyond your wildest imagination. I can give you pleasure", her voice dropped to a whisper, "pleasure that no one should ever experience, for the fear of going mad."

Harry shivered, his mouth dry in fright or something else. "I-I don't know whether that's a good idea-"

"No matter. I didn't expect you to agree so easy anyway. That would make you dumb. And I don't like dumb toys."

The Faerie disappeared, and crushing weight of the world came back.

"Powerful..." he whispered.

"What did you say?" Daphne asked, wandering back into the room with a small vial of what must have been a weak painkiller.

"Nothing", Harry said distractedly, as he downed the painkiller and went back to reading about Britain in Five hundred A.D.


	22. The Eyes of Another Encounter

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor the Mangekyo Sharingan

Author's Note: Heh, I started another new fic. It's called Resonance, and the concept is freaking weird. So the premise was built on the thought of transportation. There's a bunch of reason why my ideas are wrong, and bad, but if you put away some of your more cynical skepticism, I promise you that you'll have a good time at www. fanfiction. net/ s/ 7126535/ 1/ Resonance

Meanwhile, he's the latest chapter. It's a bit shorter, but there's more of the mysterious Faerie that everyone seems to like.

**Mangekyo**

"Weasley, there's something off about your rat."

"Shut it, Potter, not everyone can afford new pets like you, you berk-"

"No. There's an enchantment of some sort on it", Harry said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"An en-enchantment?" Weasley said, horrified. The gray rat, Scabbers, squirmed in his hand.

"Yes. I don't think it's malicious. I can break if you want me to."

"Oh, sure", said a very relieved Ronald Weasley. "Here you-"

The rat jumped out of his hand and darted away very quickly. "That's strange", Harry remarked.

"He doesn't really like strangers", Weasley said, his face and ears going red.

"That's fine", Harry said, shrugging. He left the dorm room to go to class, before turning around. "How long have you had that rat?"

"Dunno. Several years. My brother Percy had him for several years before I did."

"Maybe I shouldn't undo those enchantments. That must the only thing keeping it alive. Perhaps they are failing on their own."

Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he'd seen it before, however. Unfortunately, it wasn't something he had seen with his Sharingan. Otherwise, it would be pretty obvious. He only had the feel of magic itself to go by, as opposed to actual knowledge of what it was.

**Mangekyo**

"Put the newt's eyes in the aconite tincture. The stabilization procedure would probably work better if there wasn't any heat. Our cauldron's nearly eighty Celsius..."

"Harry, you _never_ forget what you read. The aconite tincture will explode if you-"

"Oh, right. I'm sorry Daphne. Forget what I said. It's just that I'm contemplating what life would be like..."

"Oh, it's Halloween", Daphne mumbled. "Don't worry about it, Harry."

"I'm sorry, Daphne. Grumbling is impolite. I'll be sure to-"

"Seriously Harry, don't worry about it."

Snape let them out of the dungeons several minutes earlier than usual, when he noticed that everyone was finished (though Neville Longbottom had blown up his cauldron again).

Harry winced as he banged his shoulder. It didn't actually hurt him any more, but it reminded him of the constant ache and the strange feeling of missing bits of several muscles.

Several hours later, he was walking through the corridors. Curfew had long passed, but it never deterred him. He was confident that he would be able to defeat, or at least hold off Sirius Black, even without using the Flames of Amaterasu, or the Tsukuyomi.

He didn't understand what was so dangerous about the man. There were no records of any recorded kills on anyone but a somewhat second-rate wizard - Peter Pettigrew, and the only reason he had managed to kill so many muggles with a blasting curse was because it had hit a gas main of all things.

He wandered into a previously unexplored room on the fifth floor, and realized that he was looking at a very familiar girl.

"Hello Harry."

"How are you doing?" Harry asked, giving an easy smile. In truth, he was quite nervous. But Daphne had told him that having a cold personality could turn allies off to his cause, so he was practicing his charisma. It must have looked extremely forced, he decided.

"Me? You're concerned about me?" the Fae girl asked, jumping at him, and... Harry believed the word that was used for it was glomp. Not that he would ever say _glomp_ out loud.

Harry didn't respond, but then realized that it was very difficult to do so, due to the fact that his lungs were being crushed by the pressure. It didn't hurt much, but it cut of his breathing, and some of the circulation to his sides. He bore it silently.

"I'm here to give a second warning to you, Harry! I'm going to be giving you a slight summary of what you're supposed to do for me."

Harry nodded.

"But first, tell me your story!"

Harry nodded, with marked resignation this time.

"Several days after you gave me my first warning, we - everyone third year and above, had a Hogsmeade weekend. On Hogsmeade weekends, we're allowed to spend our Saturdays outside. Now, apparently, there's a mass murderer of some sort running around."

"You humans are so silly. Killing each other?" the Fae girl said, looking very, very young for a moment.

"Yes, yes. I don't really see the point of it, myself", Harry remarked, sarcastically. "So Professor McGonagall decided that the reason Sirius Black broke out of prison was to see me."

"To see you? What's so special about _you_?" she asked, poking him lightly in the chest, and then pushing him into an instantly conjured armchair. She sat on his lap once again, and Harry's face reddened.

"Well, apparently, he knew my parents, and he was here to finish the job that Voldemort couldn't. I think it's sort of silly, myself. Mass murderer or not, he's a bit of a wild card when it comes to dueling. He can be quite skilled, or not at all. It doesn't take much skill to be a spy, honestly."

"Ooh, intrigue", she said, resting her head against his chest. Little strands of pink, gold, and white bled from her hair into his nostrils, and despite all the power of the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan, Harry was unable to snap the strands.

"Is that... magical perfume?" Harry gasped, feeling very, very at ease all of a sudden.

"Yes. I'm surprised you noti-" she suddenly traced her fingers over the right side of his face. "I can't imagine having one of _these_", she said. "How can you possibly shoulder the curse, especially at such a young age?"

"I don't know", Harry answered honestly. "There are some days when I don't think I can take it."

"Your mask. That's what it is, don't deny it", she said, shaking a finger at him. "See, you know exactly which mask I'm talking about. Your impassivity and utter politeness. You're just trying your best to show a side to the world that they expect. You're so brave", she said.

"I must confess to not understanding what makes me... brave."

"You don't have to, Harry."

Harry paused for a moment, then continued. "So Professor McGonagall decided that, despite my permission slip being signed, I was simply not allowed to go."

"Oh, what a-"

"It was for my own good", Harry said, clearly indicating with various inflections that he didn't agree. "However, I didn't really care about my own good at the time."

"Such a cute little boy", the Fae girl said, kissing him on the cheek. Out of the corner of his right eye, he could see magic leak into him, and was suddenly apprehensive. "You're a good little boy, aren't you?"

Harry glared.

"I'm just kidding."

He continued to glare.

"I'm giving you your warning now", the Faerie said, becoming very serious all of a sudden. "Your debt will be paid if, for every year you use your Eternal Kaleidoscope, you serve me for ten."

"What? I can't. That's impossible. I can't serve you for-"

"You can dig out your eye!" the Faerie said, looking rather cheerful.

Harry turned away, scowling. "Why?"

The Fae girl reasserted her magical presence, reminding Harry exactly who he was to her, and he immediately backed away. "Do not forget-"

"I know, I'm sorry. I overstepped my boundaries", Harry said. Only years and years of being polite kept him from gritting his teeth in annoyance.

"You can do something else for me, too."

The Fae girl told him, and Harry's blush rivalled that of Ronald Weasley.

**Mangekyo**

"It's December, Harry."

"I know."

"I..." Hermione pursed her lips.

"Hermione. Say it."

"I..."

The snow drifted slowly, and several dementors floated in the distance. The lake had begun to freeze over, and a cold wind blew, but it was just the way they liked it. It was peaceful, and when Harry closed his right Eye, the snow was white, and the magic of the castle didn't obscure his vision.

Harry stared at the white sky, and wondered what he did to deserve his eyes.


	23. The Eyes of Sirius Black

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor the Mangekyo Sharingan

Author's Note: Check out my most massively AU fic I've ever written at www. fanfiction. net/ s/ 7126535/ 1/ Resonance

**Mangekyo**

"Harry, this year, I want you to go home with me, for Christmas." Daphne twiddled her thumbs as Harry painfully practiced with his Crimson Ruby. He winced slightly every time his shoulder blades moved, but he had developed a strange but effective style that forced magic into his wrists, allowing for hundreds of extremely fast strikes that were very difficult to block.

The sword style was Harry's pride and joy, but in a dark corner of his mind, he wondered how much more effective it would be with the Kusanagi, which cut true each time.

The Crimson Ruby sunk into the stone floor easily with a small amount of pressure.

"Why?"

A single ray of sunlight peeked over the mountains, and illuminated all of Daphne but her face. The blond hair draped over her breasts shone. The gentle curve of her lips had never been so captivating to him, and her clear eyes glistened.

"I want... you... to..."

"I'll do anything for you, Daphne, you know it. You're one of my first true fr- You're one of my most dear people."

"I want you to kill my father."

**Mangekyo**

Harry stared out a window in the Astronomy tower. The stars winked at him, mocking him.

"How can I kill someone in cold blood?"

His eye spun wildly, and reminded him of exactly how to kill someone in cold blood, despite the fact that it wasn't quite the question he was truly contemplating.

_Kill him_, whispered a voice that wasn't quite his. _He hurt me, Harry. Kill him for me._

"I will. I'll do it."

He was about to turn around when he heard the sound of a padded foot, or an animal of some sort.

"Come out", Harry said, as he jumped rather spryly onto the windowsill and drew the Crimson Ruby.

In front of him was a dog, with the same enchantments as Ronald Weasley's rat.

Then he knew. It wasn't really a rat. This wasn't really a dog. He had been in a Transfiguration class earlier that morning, when McGonagall showed them her Animagus transformation.

This was a man.

"You might as well drop the Animagery."

The dog didn't move.

"That wasn't a request. I can, and will, run you through. You wouldn't be the first one."

Harry's hair obscured his right Eye slightly, but he was still able to assess the situation with it. He had a clear advantage of the dog, with a longer reach, and more space to move.

The dog backed up several inches, and Harry struck, burying his foot into the dog's stomach, sending it flying. He drew his wand from his back pocket with his left hand and immobilized it with a perfectly remembered, perfectly pictured, and perfectly cast _Petrificus Totalus_.

"Now, I don't know the actual spell to de-Animagize you, and I know you have the ability to turn back, so please save yourself the pain of being de-Transfigured. I would hate to reorder your nerves."

The Tranfigurative Deconstruction spell struck the dog on the chest, and slowly began to turn him back into a human being. It looked to be really painful for a moment before the dog finally reverted on his own.

"Sirius Black." Harry paused. "They said you were powerful, capable of killing hundreds of wizards."

Harry's right Eye spun crazily, but it was too dark for anyone to know that Harry possessed the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan.

Harry gave a laugh that sounded spectacularly close to a giggle. Sirius knew that if he could open his mouth, he'd likely not survive the insults he felt ready to levy against the scary, scary kid that had captured him.

The spell wore off over his jaw and neck, allowing him to speak.

"Who are you?" he rasped, his voice scratchy.

"Me? I'm the boy you want to kill. Harry Potter, at your service." The Crimson Ruby landed with a thunk into the stone right beside his head.

"Come... closer, Harry. Let me see you, once more. It's been very many years."

Harry's face twisted into a confused scowl. "That's not something a killer says. You're supposed to say 'when I get out of this body bind, I'm going to snap your neck', or something equally trite and villainous."

"I don't want to kill you, Harry", Sirius said, the rasp slowly lifting from his voice.

"Well, then why did you escape a supposedly secure prison, all the while getting chased by Dementors, to go in the direction opposite of France?"

"I hate the French", Sirius muttered, and they shared a short laugh, but Harry had stopped as quickly as he started, and Sirius was left feeling like a loon for chortling twenty seconds longer than his captor.

"I have to kill Peter Pettigrew."

"He's dead. You've killed him already, remember? Has Azkaban prison addled your mind?" Harry asked, then his tone turned bitter and sarcastic, "maybe after you kill him, you can all go off to see my parents, huh?"

"Don't joke about that", Sirius howled, and Harry resisted the urge to cast a silencing charm.

"Then stop joking about Peter Pettigrew."

"No, Harry. I didn't kill him that day. The little rat-"

"Rat, you say?" Harry sprang to his feet, alarmed.

"Yes, he's a-"

"Rat animagus, whose been part of the Weasley family for countless years, posing as a pet, while gathering information for Voldemort under the auspices of a poor supporter of the Light, whose rat would never, ever, be questioned, because the Weasleys aren't like that, supposedly."

Sirius Black deflated at Harry's well thought out analysis of exactly what Peter had been doing all those years.

"I understand now. The evidence claims that there was nothing left of him but a finger. However, even with the gas explosion, there must have been bits of Muggle everywhere, because the last time I blew something up, it splattered, but the bones weren't vaporized. It was just a Blasting Curse, a low powered one at that."

"Hold on, you've vaporized living creatures?" Sirius stared, transfixed by his godson's seeming disregard for life.

"Transfigurations. They make surprisingly good targets", Harry said, absentmindedly. "So, he must have cut off his finger, turned into a rat, and jumped into a sewer, or a store, leaving you in the middle of the street, and innocent. Now, why would he do that? Because he wasn't. He couldn't have been innocent. That means that you weren't the person who betrayed the Potters, but..."

"You want to kill a rat with me?" Sirius asked, weakly.

"Yes, I do. But first, you need a wand. Find a way to steal one, or buy it under disguise. I am", Harry made a face, "wounded." He bared his shoulder, and Sirius gaped at the pence-piece sized hole in it, which clearly showed the window behind him. "And I'm not at full ability, because of that."

"Full ability? You're thirteen", Sirius said, looking sceptical.

"At the age of eleven, I defeated Voldemort in single combat, in the Entrance Hall, with my wand and a sword. At the age of twelve, I did the same with a Basilisk. Before my third year ends, I will have killed multiple people. I was fully able to incapacitate you, despite the fact that you had snuck up on me."

"You-know-who? In single combat? In the _Entrance Hall_?" Sirius shrieked.

"Finite Incantatem", Harry said, waving his wand. Sirius sprang to his feet, then stared at the ground with more than a little bit of embarrassment.

"Sorry, I hate being tied down", he said, his eyes darting this way and that. Harry decided that the man wasn't exactly sane, after all. "I'm going to go get a wand. I'll meet you hear the day after the term starts, in January."

"Fair enough. Goodbye, Sirius Black." Harry disappeared into the darkness of the castle, and Sirius couldn't help but wonder if the Angel of Death had possessed the boy.

**Mangekyo**

Harry, Daphne, and Hermione stepped off the Hogwarts Express with grim determination on their faces. Hermione was determined to tell Harry exactly how she felt, and have him return her affections. Daphne was determined to finally rid herself of her father, who was a disgusting bastard by most definitions.

Harry was determined to kill a man who was purportedly damn good at killing people during his duels.

"You're saying that your mother and sister _support_ you calling me in to... clean house?" Harry asked, feeling more than slightly alarmed by the fact that he was a hitman paid in love and camaraderie.

"Yes, on Christmas Day, we'll set the wards to Lockdown, and you'll kill _him_, then we'll tell everyone that he disappeared off into Europe for business, like he always does. He's just not going to come back, and we'll file an investigation. He's supposed to leave on the day after Christmas anyway, by Apparition, and muggle means. Everyone knows he loves his trains."

Hermione went off, praying that Harry wasn't biting off more than he could chew - Voldemort had been a spirit possession, after all, and he hadn't been at full strength. Harry was challenging a full competent wizard in his forties this time.

"Father, mom, this is Harry Potter."

"Charmed to make your acquaintance, Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass." A knowing glint sparked in the eyes of the three female Greengrasses. Mr. Greengrass grinned.

"Harry, my boy!" Harry stiffened. It seemed that everyone who wanted something from him called him 'my boy', but he paid close attention to the man's mannerisms. "Tell me, what are your thoughts on the Hogwarts curriculum!"

"It seems to encourage independent study for the stronger students. Daphne and I are able to keep up with the coursework with minimal effort, and we are often assigned extra credit research papers. Daphne, in a joint work with myself, another student, and Professor Snape, have been published in Potions Monthly. My own work on Egyptian Runes has also been published, in Rune Magazine."

"Yes, you are _quite_ the genius, aren't you. In my day, we learned the four Arts and Dueling, at Durmstrang."

"The four Arts? What would those be?"

"Charms, Transfiguration, Runes and Potions."

"Father, Harry doesn't enjoy dueling."

"Truly? I was wondering if you'd indulge an old man, but it seems that you wouldn't after all." Lord Greengrass (which he had informed Harry of, rather pompously) turned away, and began conversing with his wife about living arrangements for the 'boy-wonder'.

Harry noticed that the man favored his right side, but his left leg.

**Mangekyo**

"If you would excuse me, Lord and Lady Greengrass, I must leave on Christmas Eve. I have a longstanding tradition that I need to uphold. I'll be back."

Harry made a show of calling the Knight Bus, and when he was aboard, he sat in the very back. With the first Apparition jump, he used Kamui to appear in Piccadilly Square, and he began to walk through London once more. His Eternal eye was easily suppressed by the good cheer, and he was happy.

As he walked into the slums of East End, he reflected on his life at the moment, and his gaze lingered on his shoulder.

He walked into an alleyway, and was suddenly confronted by a group of three women and two men. They were dressed in ragged clothing, and they were clearly homeless. "Your money, or your life."

One of the man drew a rather long knife and held it to Harry's neck.

"Is that a crack pipe? You really shouldn't use."

"Shut it, you. Make one more sound, and I'll carve you up."

Harry shook his head, and struck the man's wrist with a practiced movement, dislocating it. He ducked a swing, and sucker punched the other man, then elbowed the one who had the knife in the gut. His hair was pushed out of the way, and the wildly spinning Eternal eye was visible.

"Demon! He's a demon!" one of the women screeched.

"Demon? No. I am the Angel of Death. Ye who knock at Death's door on the eve of your Lord's birth... have been turned away. Learn to live."

Harry winked out of existence, and appeared at the gates of Greengrass manor. The sky was the color of ink, and heavy clouds obscured the stars. When he walked into manor, a crying Daphne hugged him.

He plotted the murder of Lord Greengrass as both a hit... and as revenge, and took comfort in the conflicting coldness and the fires of vengeance.


	24. The Eyes of Lord Greengrass

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor the Mangekyo Sharingan

Author's Note: Check out the most massively AU fic I've ever written at www. fanfiction. net/ s/ 7126535/ 1/ Resonance

**Mangekyo**

"Happy Christmas, everyone", Harry said. He wasn't tired at all from his excursion on Christmas Eve, and he was ready to do what he came to.

"Happy Christmas, Harry", Daphne said. She pulled him away from the dining room into the hallway. "Now, I have the rune sequence for Lockdown drawn on the inside of my arm. Whenever you're ready, I'll send a little bit of magic into it, and it'll happen. It's really obvious, so be ready to duel."

She then kissed him on the lips. Neither of them may have been very experienced in those matters, but it still left Harry dazed beyond belief.

"Harry, are you okay?"

"I'm okay", Harry said, with a brilliant smile that Daphne didn't get to see very often.

They both headed back into the dining room.

"Where were you?" Astoria, Daphne's sister, asked.

"Never you mind", Daphne responded.

"So, Harry, how are you enjoying Greengrass manor", asked Lord Greengrass.

"Fine. In fact, I'm getting pretty close to accomplishing what I need to do here."

"What would that be?"

"Well, Daphne and I... we're very good friends. Very, very good friends. And she asked to come here for a very specific purpose." Harry smiled beatifically.

"Now what would that be?" Lord Greengrass wondered, expecting Harry to ask him for his daughter's hand.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Well, you see. Daphne's told me about the things you like to do her. So I couldn't help but agree. I'm here to take her away from you. Actually, that's not very accurate. I'm here to take you away from this world." He drew the Crimson Ruby in his right hand and his wand in his left.

"Prepare yourself, Lord Greengrass."

With that, Daphne, Astoria, and their mother left the dining room, and Daphne activated her Lockdown runes.

"I see. It seems that my entire family is in on this."

"Why wouldn't they be? You beat your wife. You rape your daughters. You're a sick, disgusting bastard. People wonder why the Greengrass blood hasn't manifested in hundreds of years. It's pretty obvious why! You aren't deserving of it anymore."

"You whelp!" Lord Greengrass roared. "I invite you into my house, and you draw your wand and sword to kill me!"

Lord Greengrass drew his wand with his right hand. "Now, while you were away, I took the liberty of recovering a sword of my own. I couldn't let a little boy carry a weapon around while I had none, right?"

He drew his own sword from a hitherto invisible scabbard. "This... is the Sword that Chooses. The legacy of the Greengrass family, presented to us by Merlin himself! This is the Sword from the Stone!"

He pointed the golden sword at Harry. "Fly, Caliburn!"

Harry gripped the Crimson Ruby in both hands and deflected it with a loud _ping_, his right Eye spinning.

"Those eyes, Harry Potter. You're a Peverell!"

"I suppose you can be considered educated, Lord Greengrass." Caliburn had returned to the other man's left hand. There was a noticeable chip in the Crimson Ruby, which Harry stared at grimly. If it took a direct hit, it would probably shatter.

"Avada Kedavra!" Greengrass howled. Harry stared at the slow spell in distaste, and dodged it easily.

"Hasta glacies!" The Ice Spear, one of the first dueling spells that Harry had learned, lanced out of Harry's wand, but Greengrass easily blocked it with the flat of Caliburn.

"Hasta glacies, lancea ignis, sonitus tonabit, unicae fulmine..." Harry continued through with Flitwick's twenty-six part Elemental chain.

"What the- but that's Filius Flit-" Greengrass jumped over a lightning bolt that would have fried him and sliced hundreds of razor-sharp glass fragments with Caliburn.

"Appellans tenebras, fumus consumpto, venenum distillans..." Harry had performed eighteen extremely intensive spells, and was now tiring. Unfortunately, it was only about to get more difficult.

Greengrass shielded with elemental variants of the shield charm that Harry had never seen before, and returned fire with dark curses that Lockhart definitely would have tried to use on Dumbledore if he had known.

Harry ducked and dodged with ease, still running through Flitwick's Twenty-Six Element Chain, firing more violent spells as he continued, "Radios lucis, sanguinetur balneum..."

Caliburn absorbed the cutting laser that he had fired, but several drops of blood managed to hit Greengrass, draining him of his magic.

"Fly, Caliburn!"

It was too close. Harry couldn't dodge it in time. He was going to die...

"Kamui." The dimensional portal swallowed up Caliburn, and released it behind Lord Greengrass.

"Wha- _hurk_." Caliburn impaled Lord Greengrass to the hilt, and picked him up, then buried itself into the opposite wall. Caliburn glowed, and Lord Greengrass exploded into a fine mist of blood.

"That's disgusting", Harry commented aloud.

He walked over, and pulled the pristine blade of Caliburn off of the wall. Engraved along the blade were three names that he recognized, but as he held it to the light, a blue fire appeared along the sword.

_Harry Potter, you have been Chosen. Do you accept the Sword of Kings?_

Harry remembered the words of Lord Greengrass, _This is the Sword from the Stone_.

"Yes, I accept Caliburn of the Stone. I pledge my body to the justice of kingship. I pledge my eyes to the defense of the innocent. I pledge my soul to wellbeing of the world", Harry thought up hastily.

_Your pledges have been received. You are deemed worthy, Conquering King._

The blue flame on the edge of the golden blade faded away, and his name was visible on the flat of the sword.

"Fuck you, Lord Greengrass."

**Mangekyo**

"It's done", Harry said, as he walked out of the dining room, which was now in shambles. There was a bloody mist in the room. The furniture was charred and blackened from the three fire-based spells that Harry fired. A chair reeked of dark magic from a Soul-Eating curse that Lord Greengrass had used.

"That sword", Daphne began.

"It's Caliburn. The Caliburn."

"Is it yours?" Daphne's mother wondered.

"Now it is. It was a Greengrass family heirloom, but it is also the Sword from the Stone. It called my name."

"Thirteen, slayer of men, and bane of the Dark Lord..." she trailed off. "He's dead, isn't he?"

Harry nodded.

"I loved him once..." She disappeared into the dining room, and Daphne pulled Harry down into an armchair, and examined the Sword of Gryffindor.

"It's chipped", she said, pointing at where Harry had parried Caliburn.

"Yeah. I wonder how I'm going to explain my new sword. Dumbledore's bound to recognize it."

"Who says you have to explain anything to that man? I say you pull your hair out of your eyes, and show the world-"

"Daphne. The Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan is a very, very intimidating piece of work. It looks as if I made a deal with the devil to those who don't know what it is, and it's probably worse for those who do."

"What's wrong with his eyes anyway?" Astoria asked.

"Mangekyo Sharingan." Harry pushed hair out of the way. Astoria recoiled.

"These... grant me the ability to see many things that other people can't. It is both a blessing and a curse, and nearly everything I know about magic is due to use of them, Astoria. Can you imagine being able to see everything wrong with the wor-"

"Harry, dear, you're monologuing. My sister's eleven."

"You were eleven when you found out what these did."

"She didn't have to kill watch you cut the brains out of a Guardian of Hell."

"Cut the brains out of-"

"Never you mind, Astoria", Daphne said, pulling Harry into yet another room.

"Harry, what are you thinking?"

"That, as a person whose father was killed by me, she has a right to know exactly what type of monster I am."

"Harry, you're not a monster. You're Harry Potter, and I love you." She kissed him again, longer than the first time.

**Mangekyo**

Harry spent the rest of the days at Greengrass manor experimenting with Caliburn, which helpfully dragged him into his own mind, and instructed him.

It seemed that the sword didn't have a form or a gender, unlike the other swords, but opted to take his. Having a Harry Potter without a Kaleidoscope, or even a Sharingan, moving many times faster than him, and with much more skill, was heartbreaking. Fortunately, Harry was able to use his eyes in his mindscape, allowing him to copy Caliburn's style.

The first ability of the sword, that everyone had access to - including the late Lord Greengrass, was the command 'Fly', which fired Caliburn with the speed of a bullet. The blade would always shoot true, and shoot to kill, and could never break in flight.

The second ability could only be used by the single living Chosen King - Harry. It allowed him to divine intentions when others spoke to him. Combined with his now-latent Legilimenic skills and the Right Eternal Kaleidoscope, he now possessed a sort of localized omniscience, able to know the aims, justifications and motives of every person he could see.

"The only thing I'm missing is the ability to force anyone in the world to do one thing that I want them to."

"Where did that come from?" Daphne wondered.

Upon returning to Hogwarts, Harry thought he'd go crazy. He didn't need to know exactly how various seventh years were going to seduce their girlfriends, or the muggles studies professor wondering whether or not muggles really had ae-tro-nuts that could go to the moon!

On the bright side, each time he walked past Professor Dumbledore in the halls (it happened twice), he learned more about the Wizengamot than he had ever known.

"New sword, Harry?" Dumbledore asked him, as he walked past him for the third time.

_He wants to know what it is, because he can't tell from the hilt_.

"Yes, it's mostly ornamental. It looks nicer than the Sword of Gryffindor, and I'm working under the assumption that I won't be attacked while walking around, so I left that in my vault." Caliburn decided that Dumbledore believed him. In truth, the Crimson Ruby and the Joyeuse were both in what Harry dubbed as "Sword-Space" that he had created with Kamui, storing them within his body.

"Very well, my boy. Carry on."

Sure enough, after Dumbledore decided that he had figured out the newest mystery involving Harry, Harry didn't see the man again.

He walked over to the Astronomy tower after curfew on the second day back, meeting Sirius Black, who was perched on the windowsill.

"Hello, Sirius. Do you have a wand?"

"Yes", the Animagus muttered, as they walked towards Gryffindor tower. No more words were spoken.

The Fat Lady let Harry and Sirius (who had been transfigured to look like a quill) through, and Harry reverted the Transfiguration.

Harry walked slowly up the stairs to Gryffindor tower, and scanned the area with his eyes. _There_.

He waved his wand, immediately petrifying a sleeping Peter Pettigrew, who instantly woke up.

He carried the rat into the Common Room with Sirius, and took pleasure in using the Transfiguration Deconstruction spell on the rat.

"What should we do with him?" Sirius wondered. Caliburn told Harry that Sirius wanted to kill the Rat Animagus.

"We can't kill him yet. Perhaps we should take him to Professor Dumbledore?"

Sirius nodded. "That'll get me cleared, won't it?"

They left Gryffindor tower quietly.


	25. The Eyes of a Traitor

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor the Mangekyo Sharingan

Author's Note: Check out the most massively AU fic I've ever written at www. fanfiction. net/ s/ 7126535/ 1/ Resonance

**Mangekyo**

"Open", Harry said to the Gargoyle in front of Albus Dumbledore's office. "Open now, or I will be making it very, very uncomfortable for you."

"No?" Harry nodded. He snapped every magical string attached to the Gargoyle and it tumbled to the ground, completely bereft of the Magic that gave it mild sentience and bodyguard capabilities.

He knocked on Dumbledore's door.

"Truly, your knowledge of Magic is formidable, Harry", came a voice from behind the door.

Harry knew that the spell that Dumbledore had cast had been something to the effect of echolocation.

"Do you know who this is, Professor?"

"No, I must confess to have not experienced the specific magical signature before. It doesn't seem entirely human, in fact, it seems sort of like- Is it an Animagus?"

"This is Peter Pettigrew." Dumbledore jumped to his feet.

"He was a rat Animagus, a pet of Ronald Weasley for many, many years. I doubt Weasley knew about it. The man coming up the stairs is Sirius Black."

Dumbledore's wand appeared in his hand very, very quickly. Harry noticed that there was something very peculiar about it - a sort of primordial magic that he had only felt from the Fae. He filed it away for later consideration.

"He's innocent, of all his crimes, even the perceived one."

"No, Harry, you don't understand! Your parents were hidden under the Fidelius - he was the only one who could have-"

"Professor, were you there when my parents gave their Secret away?"

"They made an oath to-"

"A magical oath?" Harry wondered.

"No, but despite this, I can not allow Sirius Black to run around unfettered until this mystery is solved." A spell flew from Dumbledore's wand, but Harry unmade it, pulling on the strands until they collapsed. In a real duel, it would be impossible to do it - there were too many spells that activated immediately, like the Elemental series he was so fond of, and it was difficult to do it under pressure, but the results of long practice were stunning.

"What?" Dumbledore stared at his completely ineffective spell, as Sirius carefully laid his stolen or found wand on the ground and held his hands up.

"Do you have a way to guarantee the truth without destroying his mind?" Harry wondered.

"Yes, I have Veritaserum."

Harry was taken aback. Veritaserum, according to every reference book he had come across, was prohibitively expensive, and nearabouts impossible to brew. "I had no idea that Snape was _that_ skilled."

"In truth, his Potions mastery is a three-part merit - he has achievements in potions creation, potions improvement and potions comparison. Veritaserum is not quite as difficult for a man who knows everything about how potions are made. Professor Snape is possibly the most qualified potions master in England, my boy."

Harry filed that away for further consideration as well. "Now, should we dose him up, or should we wait for clearance from the Ministry?"

"Bureaucracy is the enemy of justice, my boy." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled madly as he pulled out a vial and added three drops to an unmoving Peter Pettigrew's tongue, forcing his mouth open with a spell. He pushed the man's mouth shut, held his nose, and undid Harry's Petrification charm.

Pettigrew thrashed for a moment, and was then still, his eyes adopting a glassy sheen.

"What is your name?" Dumbledore asked.

"Peter Pettigrew."

"Were you once part of a group known as the Marauders during your schooling?" Sirius asked.

"Yes."

"Do you know who I am?" Harry Potter asked Peter.

"Yes."

"Were you the secret keeper for my parents?" Harry continued.

"Yes."

"Were you under a sort of coercion when you gave away the Secret?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

"Will you willingly give longer responses?" Sirius growled.

"No."

"Are you loyal to Tom Riddle, who calls himself Voldemort?" Harry asked. Dumbledore looked at him sharply.

"Yes."

"When did you join the Death Eaters?" Sirius asked.

"End of Seventh Year."

"Who invited you to the Death Eaters?" Sirius continued.

"Severus Snape."

"Why did you join the Death Eaters?" Harry wondered.

Pettigrew seemed to be fighting the question. Sirius stared at the man for a moment, then rephrased the question. "Did you join the Death Eaters for money or power?"

"Power", Peter ground out.

"Is it wearing off, Professor?" Harry asked.

"No, it isn't. However, he seems to have a stronger will than I thought previously." Dumbledore looked from Sirius to Peter, the former who was asking whether Peter had ever been loyal to his friends.

"Can you up the dosage, sir?"

"No, I believe that would actually liquefy his mind, my boy."

"How dare you!" Sirius shouted. "We gave you everything! We took you in when you were bullied, and when-"

"Sirius, that's enough. We know beyond a doubt that he betrayed my parents." Harry turned to Dumbledore, "is there a way we can cripple him semi-permanently? Something that could only be reversed with a specific antidote, or something that only wears off after a certain amount of time, so he doesn't escape?"

"Well, Severus had a batch of paralysis potion he had been complaining about never having a use for. It'll last a month if used on an unwilling victim, longer if he wants to stay paralysed, and will not kill him."

Dumbledore walked over to his fireplace and threw a handful of floo powder into it. The fireplace flared green. "Severus!" he called out.

Several moments later, a surly face could be seen in the fireplace. "What could you possibly need at this hour, Albus?" He then noticed Harry and two unidentified men in the room, one of which was slumped over and drooling, the other with a rather feral look on his face.

"I have managed to find a use for your stock of paralysis potion, Severus. Would you please bring it to an old man?"

"Immediately", Snape promised, and his face disappeared from the fireplace.

There was silence for a moment.

"Harry, I must admit to being curious as to how you stopped me from Stunning Sirius. That particular variant has the effect of piercing shield charms quite easily."

Harry nodded, and nearly crowed in success. He had wanted to view H-class Shieldbreaking Dueling Charms in action for quite a while, and believed that he would be able to perform all of them now that he had seen them. "I'm not sure. It was pretty raw - I didn't want you to damage Sirius, because I thought he was innocent, and somehow, my magic flared, and I felt a bit lightheaded."

"Very, very specific accidental magic indeed. I'll tell Filius that you're ready for Wandless training. The benefits of Wandless magic are many, despite the fact that there is little to no finesse in the cas- There you are, Severus."

Snape walked into the room a moment later.

"Hello Albus", he said, carrying a vial of what could only be Paralysis potion. It was the color of brackish blood, and looked wholly unpleasant. "Who are they?" he hissed.

"I'm surprised you don't recognize me, _Snivellus_", Sirius sneered.

"You!" Snape roared, a spell rushing from his wand in less than a second. Harry admired his draw, but took apart the rather nasty Bonecrushing Hex even as Dumbledore used a Class-P Bunker Shield, capable of stopping anything from muggle missiles to nearly twenty Dark curses at once. Harry smiled. He was learning quite a lot from this excursion.

"That's Peter Pettigrew, Professor", Harry said, kicking the heap of bones. "He betrayed... my mother... to Voldemort."

Dumbledore didn't notice Harry's specific usage, but Snape did, and was now glaring at the fleshbag with undisguised contempt.

Snape knelt, grasped Peter by the jaw very, very firmly and pried it open, then dumped the contents of his vial into the man's mouth, causing the Rat Animagus to spasm, then go still.

"He should be out of it for a month or more, depending on his will to move. Send him to Azkaban." He gave Sirius a curt glare, and stomped out of the room.

"That went quite well, if I do say so myself, didn't it, Harry?" Dumbledore beamed.

**Mangekyo**

"The Ritual's today", Harry said. He was actually bubbly, something that Daphne had never seen before. "The Ritual's today!"

It was a warm April morning, nearly four months since Peter Pettigrew was captured.

"Yes, everything is ready", Hermione said, staring that the perfectly made power potion. She measured out doses for each of them.

Harry began the process of drawing runic diagrams into the floor with Caliburn, and sprinkling over them with their blood.

"Indus Valley Blood Runes, second only to the lost Sumerian series."

"Why are the Sumerian Blood Runes lost anyway?" Daphne wondered, staring at the creations that Harry was carving into the stone.

"The legend is that they were so powerful that Gilgamesh didn't dare let anyone know about them, so he destroyed them. The truth is even more terrifying. They were used to forge some sort of weapon capable of driving the elves into hiding, and the fae away from this world. Even now, they haven't come back, out of respect for whatever it was. A side project of mine was crossreferencing the texts that speak of this, and I've come to the conclusion that the weapon in question was a sword."

"No. Anything but a sword. Anything! It's really a sword, right? Damn it!" Hermione palmed her face. "You aren't going to go chasing after it, are you?"

"No, the Sword of Rupture has been lost to time. The popular theories claim that one of the four races of higher sentience took it, though the ideas of goblins having it is sort of stupid, and dwarves are nearly extinct anyway."

"Faeries and High Elves. Picking your poison, Harry?" Daphne asked, shaking her head.

"No, I don't want to deal with either more than I already have", Harry said truthfully.

They sat down on the ground on the three sets of runes positioned in a triangular formation, and Harry retrieved the slip of paper that the Master Healer had given him.

He began to chant slowly, thinking of how he had received his wound. It didn't require much concentration, just a continual rhythmic chanting, and in a singular motion, during a pause in the chant, they all downed their potions.

He continued to chant as he felt the magic overflow from his core. He resisted the urge to jump to his feet and begin casting hundreds of extremely intensive spells. He felt as if he could continually cast Flitwick's Twenty Six Element Chain for days.

Then something completely unexpected happened.

Harry could feel the magic in each of them being stretched by the healing chant to accommodate the large amount of magic flooding into them.

Harry was capable of reading both of his companion's thoughts, and it seemed that Hermione had worked it out already. _Our magical cores are doubling, tripling, or maybe more, because the chant perceives our cores as an injury, since we have more magic now_.

He felt the wound in his arm slowly regenerate muscles and bone particles, then close up. He flexed it, and was very happy to notice that there wasn't any pain.

When Harry had begun the ritual, he had slightly more magic than McGonagall. Now, his magic approached that of Flitwick's - nearly three times as much as a generic wizard, and around half as much as Dumbledore.

Hermione and Daphne had both surpassed most of the teachers in the school in that respect as well, and half roughly half the amount of magic he had.

For a thirteen year old, that was impossibly impressive, but Harry was disappointed that his core hadn't improved more.

They sank into each other, exhausted, while their new magic acclimated itself to their bodies and replenished their stamina.

"Well, that went a bit better than expected, didn't it?" Harry remarked, still waving his right arm around.

"Now, what does this entire thing teach you, Harry?" Hermione began to lecture.

"That I have the best friends in the world."

Hermione blushed. "N-no, not that. I mean-"

"Arrogance is unbecoming?"

"Be more specific."

"Fine. If I'm going to be breaking four-dimensional wards, I should make sure that I haven't convinced myself that I'm invincible, because the wards are generally stronger than I am."


	26. Finale 3: The Eyes of a Werewolf

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor the Mangekyo Sharingan

Author's Note: This is a rewritten version of my third Finale. SuperiorShortness didn't like the other one, and when I read it again for realism, I'm inclined to agree with him. I'm sorry y'all.

Author's Note: Check out the most massively AU fic I've ever written at www. fanfiction. net/ s/ 7126535/ 1/ Resonance

**Mangekyo**

"Ms. Greengrass, we're here about your father."

There were nearly twenty five aurors present, which Harry thought was strange, but giving the consternation the Minister had about Sirius Black being innocent, and Peter Pettigrew being dumped onto the lap of one Amelia Bones, the head of Magical Law Enforcement, it was to be expected. It was almost as if they wanted Dumbledore to do something wrong, or at least respond violently, but the old man was as jovial as usual.

"I don't want to go", Daphne said, looking rather childish.

"You must come with us to the Department. It's required of everyone who might be involved in this case."

"I said that I'm not going. It's not like I'm a suspect, and it's certainly not like you have a warrant from the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot", Daphne pointed at Dumbledore, "to bring in schoolchildren", she smirked, "into the Ministry for no reason."

"Your father is missing, girl", roared the Auror who must have been in charge.

"So?" Daphne raised a dainty eyebrow at the large black man, who had identified himself as Auror Shacklebolt. "He loves his sudden vacations. In fact, I recall a time when-"

"That's enough!" screamed the man who had identified himself as Auror Dawlish. "You're coming with us and that's final!" He grabbed Daphne by the collar.

"Do you know who I am?" Daphne's voice turned cold. "I am Greengrass of Greengrass, Noble and Revered. What is the Eighth Promise, Harry?"

Harry didn't even need his eyes to remind him. "The Eighth Promise is the Right of the Scion to the Most Noble, which is never to be questioned without direct proof. This is known as the Golden Promise, and can only be overturned by the Chief Warlock, the Minister, and three-quarters of the Wizengamot working in tandem, according to the revisions in Nineteen Forty One, the only limit to the Right."

Dawlish conjured Wizengamot Law, Nineteen Ninety One, and flipped to the Promises, reading it through quickly, pausing only to glance at Harry when he realized that Harry had repeated the law word-for-word. "Aha! Here it says that the express purpose of the promise is not to interfere with the business of a scion. Considering you're schooling-"

"Merlin Accords, Law Thirteen, on the behalf of Helga Hufflepuff. Harry?"

"The Institution of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizard is within the boundaries of Class Two Duty exemptions, and is within the parameter definition of business. This can only be revoked with permission from the Headmaster, the Chief Warlock, and two-thirds of the Wizengamot, on a case-by-case basis."

Dawlish flipped to the Merlin Accords, and read it through. He could no longer contain his curiousity. "How are you able to remember all of that?" he asked Harry, rather horrified at the extensive knowledge of the boy he dubbed 'the Accomplice' in his head.

"Magic", Harry said, his eyes narrowing.

Dawlish rolled his eyes and went back to reading it. "Here! It says that the Ministry has the right to arrest people for witness questioning because of the Hogwart's pledge to never harbor criminals!"

Daphne smirked. "Silly Auror. Reread the Golden Promise. I believe this constitutes as a double-bind in my favor. Now, class begins in exactly nine minutes. Would you please?"

"Let it go, John", Auror Shacklebolt said to Auror Dawlish. He pointed. "That's Harry Potter. You're offending more people than you think."

Dawlish glared. "We'll be back", he promised. The Minister had told him to watch out for the Potter boy. Apparently, he was a dangerous opponent, who was able to capture Peter Pettigrew, and somehow got Sirius Black exonerated. Someone who let such dangerous criminals loose were to be observed, and he now had the perfect opportunity.

He then strode up to the High Table. "We'll be leaving Aurors here in the castle. The next Sunday's a Session, and we'll get the warrant then", he said to Dumbledore.

Harry thought it was quite strange how little respect Dumbledore received, when the man was clearly so powerful.

"Surely you've learned that having a Ministry presence here is unnecessary?" Dumbledore asked with a politeness similar to that which Harry had displayed during his beginnings in Hogwarts. It was the same brand as his, Harry decided - there was a biting disrespect within it that wasn't entirely apparent from the tone, but the words themselves. Dumbledore was clearly referring to the Dementors which had been quietly removed from the school grounds.

"No matter. We need to make sure that we can locate certain people when the time comes", Dawlish snapped imperiously.

Dumbledore smiled benignly, though a touch of coldness was apparent in his eyes.

**Mangekyo**

Harry loved the Caliburn. He had been practicing with it for months, and it had never, ever missed. It wasn't a latent enchantment on the blade, but something else entirely. The blade functioned by twisting reality itself to accommodate it - it would break Space-Time in the same manner as Kamui to find its target. Fortunately for Harry, his eyes allowed him to block it at the last second, and Kamui managed to not only change the location, but also the target of Caliburn. He had only recently realized how close he had come to dying.

"I'm going for a walk", Harry decided giddily.

Daphne stared out the window and began stargazing. "Mars is bright tonight."

"Your centaur impression is terrible", Hermione chuckled, as she too looked out the window. "The moon's so beautiful and bright."

Harry, however, wasn't exactly stargazing as walked into Professor Lupin's office. He was actually on high alert.

The first sign of something wrong was the fact that a large goblet had been spilled all over the floor.

He crouched and ran a finger through the thick liquid and took a sniff. _Aconite_. He could count on one hand the potions that used aconite. As the clouds parted, the liquid on the floor shone silver, and he looked up at the moon reflexively. Then it clicked.

"This... is Wolfsbane. But it hasn't exactly been consumed. Which means... that there's a werewolf running around."

He immediately backed into the corner, and drew both wand and sword. "Illuminus Solem!" Several globules of prismatic light shot out of his wand and joined to create a very large dazzling globe that obscured the moon from view and lit up the room as if it were noon.

There was no one in the room but him. Harry wasn't surprised. If the werewolf, who was either Professor Lupin, or a kid he was helping out, was in the room, he would have been attacked, or at least chased out before he could have a chance to examine the area.

He looked around the room to find clues as to where- _there_! On Lupin's desk was a map, a beautiful conglomeration of three-dimensional runes and charms (Harry could only see that it was Runed because of his Eternal eye) that looked to be an interactive map of the school.

"No way", he breathed. It was a work of art - something only someone with not only a prodigious amount of skill, but also very good imagination would have even thought of. Harry believed that Hermione or Daphne would have each been capable of creating it - many of the Seventh years (judging from the essays that Professor Babbling allowed him to read) could have done so as well, but... it was the simple thought of the artifact in front of him that was absolutely genius.

He stared at the moving dots, attempting to locate Professor Lupin. He saw three dots on the grounds, and then he knew.

"Lupin. He didn't know that Sirius Black was exonerated. Because no one talked about it. There was a kid who was wondering why he wasn't in the newspapers anymore just this morning. Little bit of an oversight on your part, eh, Professor Dumbledore?" he muttered to himself. "So he ran out without drinking the potion, or before the potion even arrived. Snape ran into the room, with the potion, or to check on him, and noticed the spill, or spilled it in a hurry."

He thought for a moment. "Fuck. They're going to fire him." His eyes narrowed, and he mentally chastised himself. He'd been trying to keep himself from what Daphne and Hermione called the Three Levels of Anger - narrowing eyes, rapid blinking, and a death grip on his sword. Unfortunately, it escaped anyway. He blinked twice, then stared out the window.

Sure enough, Snape was dueling a transforming Lupin - the moon seemed to have just peeked through the clouds. Harry shook his head, then jumped out the window.

Of course, he fell very slowly (at least to him), and landed on his Charge Step, negating the damage that gravity would have wrought to his legs. He ran another thirty meters until he was only five or six meters away from the entire spectacle.

Snape was firing silver darts at Lupin, who dodged gracefully. Sirius Black was in his dog form, nursing several of what looked like bite wounds.

"Harry!" Sirius shouted, and Harry felt like cursing him instead of the werewolf - he had lost the element of surprise.

Harry drew his wand back and forth in a lasso motion. "Nodum Gordianus!" Thick black strands (which were golden in the world of his Eternal Kaleidoscope) were belched forth by his wand.

Normally, they would have restrained anything from a mouse to an elephant, but it appeared that werewolves were fundamentally magical creatures. The Gordian Knot Curse was only truly powerful against physical struggles. Alexander's lightly enchanted sword had cut it in seconds, and Lupin's claws shredded it.

"I've tried all the restraining spells I know. None of them work!" Snape shouted. Sirius was blocking the majority of the blows with either his paws or his body, but Snape was slowly and surely getting worn down.

However, Harry had some tricks that most wizards, British or otherwise, had never even heard of. He hadn't even scheduled a world tour with the Kamui yet...

"Szellem telittetseg!" he cried, and golden sparks left his wand in waves. They didn't seem to do anything, but Harry wasn't expecting it to. The Saturation of Divinity was a spell that the Eastern Orthodox Church had used to bless things. Over the years, these objects would manifest magical properties, but it had no effect on wizards, as they were magical already.

Of course, Harry wasn't done. While the Hungrarian spell was quite rare to behold in the twentieth century, it was crucial to the next segment.

Harry pointed his wand at the Earth, and began drawing the most terrible and powerful of runes.

The Sumerian series only existed on the Rune Rock. Every year, thousands of scholars over the world would schedule trips to the Tigris and Euphrates to visit the strange markings that were invisible to muggles. Due to the latent strength of the runes, they couldn't be drawn without activating - unless other runes were superimposed over them. That made manuals few and very far between.

Harry didn't have that problem. A single look at the Rune Rock from all directions meant the Runes were burned into his mind. Due to his eyes, he fundamentally understood each of the symbols unlike any other person in history (with the possible exception of his ancestors, the Peverells, or his mother).

He drew the eight runes of Binding, pumping his Magic into each one, and feeling them push at him. His control was extremely tight - if it wasn't, he would be frozen to the spot, and would have to undo the Magic with his eyes. He then drew the rune of Patience, as the last piece of his Ninefold Sequence.

"Enkidu!" he intoned, pointing his wand at Remus. The Ninefold Sequence wrapped itself around the Chains of Divinity, which didn't have any name, but various nicknames. Harry preferred the Sumerian one, but there were Greek and African variants.

"Enkidu?" Snape wondered, his mind running through legend after legend. "The Saturation of Divinity! Truly Lily's son", he whispered, shocked. "Th-that's brilliant."

The Chains of Divinity, which Harry had strengthened with his Ninefold Sequence, were powered by the very spiritual qualities of its target. A werewolf, which would have been impossible to contain without the Darkest of magic, would snap through the Chains easily - they weren't Divine. But the power of the Saturation, as well as the Ninefold Sequence, Harry had created an unbreakable binding.

"Is that a Werewolf?" a voice rang out behind them. Harry gritted his teeth, and drew the Nordic Obfuscation series over his face with his wand.

"Mangekyo Sharingan", he whispered, and turned around.

There were nearly fifteen Aurors, most of them with their wands out.

"That's a Werewolf!" Auror Dawlish (who Harry had decided was his archenemy-of-the-week) shouted. "Kill it! Kill it quick!"

The Aurors hesitated when they realized that the Werewolf had been restrained in a multitude of golden chains.

"What are you waiting for! It's going to get out of the chains!"

"I would appreciate it if you didn't attempt to kill him", Harry said, his voice as garbled as his face was obscured. It seemed that both Snape and Sirius had left him there to deal with the Aurors. Another look confirmed that Sirius had readied his wand behind a strangely docile Whomping Willow, and Snape had cast a three-layered Invisibility charm upon himself, his own wand at the ready.

The Aurors began to circle them, assuming one of the many Auror formations that Harry had read so much about.

"See, if you did this in the war against Voldemort, there would have been less casualties!" Harry jeered.

In response, three of them fired textbook stunners at him.

Harry didn't take them apart, choosing to blow them out of the way with his Charge Step, and returning fire with other Stunning spells - Shieldbreaking variants, and the infamous Moody Spin Stunner, which split into four, and actually managed to surprise one Auror, knocking the sod out.

Of course, the polite exchange of spells didn't continue, as more Aurors began to fire, and Harry strengthened his Charge Step, while taking apart six or seven spells with his eyes.

The spells became stronger - Blasting Curses and the like. Harry found that he was better served using his recently learned Bunker Charm, which easily absorbed each of the spells without so much as shuddering.

Harry waved his wand in a figure eight, forming a brace of Ice Spears.

"Elemental spells! We have a Class B, at least Class B Hostile capable of Bunker Shields and Multiple Ice Spears!" barked a voice Harry recognized as Auror Shacklebolt.

"Just Class B?" Harry cackled, looking and sounding for all the world like a Dark Wizard. The earth moved as he began to cast Class-L Elemental charms, dust and dirt flying everywhere, and Lightning lancing.

"Class A! Class A! Engage with all stops pulled!" Shacklebolt declared. He spun his wrist and snapped his elbow at Harry. "Yeresun Yerku Voskri Kortsanarar Aseghner!" Thirty two huge metal bars, sharpened on one end were instantly conjured, and they flew at Harry. Surprisingly, the blew right through the Bunker Shield with some sort of pressure damage, but Harry easily parried them with Caliburn and his slowed perception, sending them everywhere. Snape only managed to dodge one that would have impaled him through the stomach.

Harry responded with several of Flitwick's other spells - not in sequence, as he didn't want to implicate his favorite professor, but it was far more than most of the Aurors were capable of dealing with. One man wouldn't have any hair after a particularly heated Inferno Hex.

"Formation A!" Shacklebolt roared, and the Aurors all pulled back into a semicircle, then pointed their wands at him.

"Bin ses bariyerleri!" they all shouted at once.

Harry stared, with no small amount of alarm, as huge sound waves travelled at him at breakneck speeds.

"Susano'o. Kussetsu no Kagami. Yata!" Harry's Yata Mirror absorbed the sound waves, and released them in the direction of the Aurors, instantly knocking the majority of them out in a perfect combination of the Yata Mirror and the Twylyte sequence, forcing the spell back in its Wide-Area form. Only Kingsley and another two Aurors were capable of blocking the sound waves, with gray and black shields that Harry would be analyzing in his spare time.

"Avada Kedavra!" shouted Auror Dawlish.

Harry was annoyed. Auror Dawlish had crossed a line, and Harry wasn't going to let it go. "Fly, Caliburn!" The sword jumped out of his grasp and buried itself into his chest.

"_Hurk_", moaned Dawlish, as he was slammed by the force of the flying blade into a tree, nearly a hundred meters away. The sword dissipated and reappeared in Harry's hand.

Kingsley clicked his finger. "Code Red! Code Red! We have a Mage Class opponent at Hogwarts. Retreat!"

The Portkeys on each one of the Aurors activated, and they were spirited off the school grounds.

Harry quickly waved at Sirius and Snape, both of whom helped him carry Lupin into the castle.

**Mangekyo**

"What happened?" shouted a furious Amelia Bones. "You had a force of fifteen Aurors at your disposal. I have twelve wounded, one _dead_ and two of my best looking magically exhausted. What happened?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am", Kingsley began. "There was a Mage class opponent."

"There are two people above A class in that entire castle, with one unknown. The man was clearly not Albus Dumbledore or Filius Flitwick. First, what was a werewolf doing Hogwarts grounds? Second of all, why did you engage, when you could clearly see that the man or woman, probably a woman judging from her size, had managed to bind a werewolf! That should have been the first clue that your opponent was Mage class!"

"But-"

"Kingsley. You're a good Auror. You've been doing this for four or five years, as a transfer from Games and Sports. Found your true calling. I know the story well. I was part of the Law division before I took up my wand when my brother was killed."

Madame Bones sighed. "There are three classes beyond that of normal, everyday wizards, as you are aware. I generally give this speech to people with a decade of experience nowadays, because since Eighty One, we've been no different than fast-acting muggle cops. But it appears that with the forces at work, I'll have to inform the entirety of the Auror presence."

She barked into a badge of some sort. "Code Black! Everyone, whether you're drinking, fucking or on duty. My outer office. Now!"

She dragged him by the sleeve into her outer office, a large room which could easily accommodate three hundred Aurors.

In five minutes, the entire force had arrived, from the supposedly retired Mad-Eye Moody to the green Nymphadora Tonks.

"Moody, would you give the speech about post-Class A opponents? You always gave the best speeches."

Several of the more decorated members of the force - such as Gawain Robards and Rufus Scrimgeour - could be seen nodding sagely.

Moody clunked, on his wooden leg, up to the podium. His right eye, destroyed by spellfire during the war with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named spun wildly in imitation of the All-Seeing White Eyes of the Turkish Kocak family.

"You've been called here because one of your colleagues has died." Moody stopped suddenly. "He died, not because he hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings. Reading this memo, I know that he'd been doing his best against his mark. Most of you know me to be a crazy old man. That hasn't changed. I'm alive this long, because I've practiced all my philosophies about battle to the fault. _Constant Vigilance_!" he shouted suddenly. People who weren't used to it winced. Nymphadora Tonks tripped.

"But there comes a time when that's not enough", Moody admitted, looking troubled. "There are wizards and other entities out there that are so much stronger than you that it doesn't matter how careful you are. They can, for instance, tell a sword to impale you faster than you can move." He glared at the memo.

"Aurors are capable, on their own, of engaging Class D and Class C opponents. You know this. In a team, you would be able to take down Class B fuckers. And then, there are Class A wizards. Inner Circle Death Eaters and the like. Able to rip a chunk out of many of you, one on one. There are four Class A wizards in this room. Amelia, Rufus, Gawain and Kingsley, in order of years in service. If you think you can kill them when they're using Dark curses, go ahead and die against the likes of the Lestranges. Well, they're in prison now", he smiled nastily. "Took my eye and my leg, they did."

"And then, further from them are the Mages. I'm the only one in this room. If you think you can kill me, go ahead and try. Each Mage has an ability that can destroy a normal wizard. I can see everything, and my mastery in Defense is Shield based, so you'd be damn lucky to hit me with anything but an Unforgivable." He paused. "I'm one of the weakest mages in existence."

"Filius Flitwick over at Hogwarts. He can chain Elemental spells together with such perfection and efficiency that he would kill all of you in under a minute. Orion Black, when that bastard was still alive, could Transfigure himself into anything, and fire spells as a rock, or a tree, and assassinate your green asses without batting an eyelash."

"And then, there are the Sorcerors. Dumbledore and You-Know-Who are the British Sorcerors of the past fifty years. Your chances against them are actually zero. To kill a sorceror, you must surprise them, which is close to impossible. Work through their absolute defenses. Defeat their bloodline selections, undo their hundreds of rituals, and then outduel them."

"I'm not even going to talk about the Legends. There hasn't been one in hundreds of years, since the eighteenth century. But on par with those would be Mr. Flamel with the Philosopher's Stone, living today. A Killing curse would bounce off of him. The Faeries. They can twist Space and Time to the rhythm of their thoughts, as easily as you breathe. The High Elves. They can shred the fabric of reality, and create and destroy things without conscious thought. You don't stand a chance, even with the element of surprise."

"Today, your comrade, Auror Dawlish, a C class duelist, died, because he cast an Unforgivable, and the Mage retaliated with a magical artifact. We know that he is capable of blocking Formation A and returning fire with the very spells we cast at him. Do not engage him, not without three A class backups. And remember. _Constant Vigilance!_" he shouted.

"Thank you, Moody", Madame Bones said, nodding. "Now, go home, and think about your existence. You are a sworn defender of the Realm. How would you be able to protect it from the mechanizations of Mages and Sorcerors? How would you be able to protect it from Legends? I want a report. This isn't school, so I don't want your usual Troll works, or even Acceptable bullshit that you passed your classes at Auror Academy at. This is your life. John Dawlish, may he rest in peace, forgot that. See that you don't. Dismissed."

**Mangekyo**

"He's getting fired, isn't he?" Harry wondered, feeling rather miserable.

"Yes. I don't think it's wise telling Dumbledore that you were the one to bind him. Let him think that someone was trying to infiltrate the castle, and that we went down to confront him. I'm sure the Ministry will be giving him no small amounts of flak over the incident, and while he certainly won't condemn you to Azkaban - he believes in second chances, something I'm not ungrateful for - he will be much less lenient with you in the future."

Remus was miserable. "I failed you, Harry."

"No you didn't, Professor. You were the best defense teacher I've ever had", Harry said, honestly, as there really wasn't a point in comparing the man to Lockhart or Quirrell, out loud at least, so he left it as a blanket statement.

Remus shook his head. "What if I had bitten you? The only son of my best fr-"

Harry nodded. "Fair enough. But have some faith in me."

"He has Lily's eyes", Snape remarked.

"I know that al-" Lupin looked at Harry sharply. "Oh. Yes. In that case, he would be the ideal person to deal with a werewolf, someone stronger and faster than a normal human. One, two or three tomoes, Harry?"

"Left Kaleidoscope, Right Eternity."

"What?" Lupin asked.

"His left eye is a Mangekyo Sharingan. His right eye is a further advanced form of it."

Lupin stared at Harry in horror. "Who did you kill?"

"Why does everyone think I killed someone? You, Professor Snape, Sirius... My aunt Petunia killed my pet in front of me. I woke up drenched in the blood of my only friend in the world. Happy? Oh, and the right Eye? It was from a deal with a very powerful Fae. And the deal was open ended. Are you going to chastise me too?"

Lupin pursed his lips. "If you know that you aren't suppose to do things, it would make sense to never bring it up again, and hope you don't repeat your mistakes. However, before I leave, I'll have time to show you two things that I'm actually good at."

He got up and pointed his wand at the window. "Expecto Patronum!" he cried. A huge ball of light left his wand. "I suppose I should have taught you this charm to repel Dementors, but you didn't seem to have trouble with them."

"Yes. My eyes allow me to deal with them quite easily. But this is quite different from most of the spells I know. I can't-"

"You can't copy it because it's one of the only Hallowed spells known to the public. You have to force all your positive emotions to the fore and coalesce it into light. There's no wand motions, or even true intent, just happiness."

Harry thought vaguely of Daphne and Hermione. "Expecto Patronum!"

A thin mist left his wand.

"That's an amazing first try!" Lupin smiled. He was entirely sincere, from Harry's knowledge of microexpressions, and Caliburn's whispers. "Try to think of a specific event, and concentrate on it. Severus", Snape growled at the use of his first name, "tells me that you know Occlumency. Lily said it always helped her with the Patronus."

Harry isolated all of his memories, choosing to live again in the moment when Daphne kissed him. "Expecto Patronum!" An unidentified glob of light burst forth from his wand, dazzling him.

"Now, the last bit, forming it into your Guardian, is the most difficult portion. It'll take you much longer for that, so let me get to the second bit. Watch me duel! Severus", Snape growled again, "would you duel with me, using shields only? I'd love a real duel once more, but I need to get through this before I'm kicked out of this school for good. I'll need to go back to the Colony again." His face was downcast for a moment, and even Snape's expression softened.

"Very well. I'll cast a Bunker shield, and you can show him the Flurry."

Lupin began firing spells at speeds that even Flitwick would be hard pressed to match while chaining. The spells actually bled into each other - it seemed to be possible due to the fact that they weren't heavy duty spells, and they shared most of the same motions.

It was a destructive style, missing far more than hitting, but producing devastating effects on the Bunker charm when it did. It was wasteful and extravagant - something that was probably style loved by crowds, but it was also effective. In nearly a minute, Harry had realized that it wasn't something he could learn with his eye - it required practice and splicing deep knowledge about hundreds of spells together in moments. It was also an intelligent dueling style, something Hermione would be able to utilize very well.

Harry nodded as Lupin finally finished, having cast over four hundred charms, thirty hexes, twenty two curses and conjured eighty three objects (most of which had been banished at Snape) in four minutes. Snape had reinforced his Bunker charm nearly eight times.

Harry was confident, however, that he would be able to emulate it for much longer than four minutes, giving him a huge advantage in a situation where he was cornered by wizards that were more powerful than the Aurors, and would be able to block Flitwick's Chain while working together. This was nigh unblockable with good accuracy. Harry's accuracy would exceed that of Lupin's by far, due to his slowed perception. Lupin had only hit the bunker charms with around two hundred spells - less than forty percent of the time. Harry decided that in using the same sequence, he'd be able to have eighty or ninety percent accuracy, overwhelming even a group of duelists.

Of course, it was that moment when the door opened.

"Remus. I regret this, but you're fired." Dumbledore took a deep breath, then surveyed the room. "What have you been doing in here?" he exclaimed.

"Oh, we were teaching young Harry the Patronus charm. He had several rather explosive accidents with it, and managed to hit both of us. It turned out that his pronunciation wasn't what it should have been."

Dumbledore looked at his teachers sharply, knowing that he was being deflected, and at Harry, but the boy didn't even seem to hear him.

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry cried, and a small mist formed.

Dumbledore turned his attention back to Lupin. "I'm sorry, but with the incident on the grounds..."

"I know, I know. I should have made sure I'd taken the Wolfsbane before I ran after the dot with the question mark on it. If I had known that it was a mage, I would have gone straight to you, Professor."

"Well, I'd like to say 'see that it doesn't happen again', but I was given a supermajority edict from the Wizengamot. I voted against it, but..." Dumbledore shook his head. "You were the only decent Defense teacher I had hired in nearly a decade." He shook his head again.

"You have two weeks to pack - I'll wait until the end of term. Don't worry about the rumors flying around. Sticks and stones, my boy, sticks and stones."

"It's too bad that only words can hurt me", Lupin muttered as Dumbledore left the Defense office.


	27. The Eyes of Remus Lupin

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor the Mangekyo Sharingan

too lazy to log in: the new Chapter 26 has been posted. I'm sorry about the old one. SuperiorShortness was right when he said it was the worst chapter ever. LOL.

Author's Note: Check out the most massively AU fic I've ever written at www. fanfiction. net/ s/ 7126535/ 1/ Resonance

**Mangekyo**

Harry stood next to the Hogwarts Lake with Caliburn in its sheathe as he contemplated how to use everything at his disposal efficiently.

"I have a sword that can move at just subsonic speeds. A sword that flies true no matter the target."

He stared at the astronomy tower.

"Fly, Caliburn."

_Shing_! The sword jumped out of the sheathe and turned toward the tower. Instead of waiting for his sword to disappear and embed itself in the stone tower, he grabbed it by the hilt, and then strengthened the entirety of his arm with the Charge step.

Harry was rewarded with something that could help him cross battlefields in less than a second, and assassinate his target without fail.

He jumped down (reinforced, of course) onto the grounds, and his sword reappeared in his hand.

"My god, that's amazing, Harry." Daphne played with her hair as she recited Greengrass House chants. Hermione was reading Intermediate Wandless Magic by Marius Darkwolf, a thirteen thousand page tome that she had cast a Featherlight charm on.

Harry only used one Wandless curse - the M-designated Blasting Curse variant invented by Nicholas Flamel in Seventeen Eighty, which turned everything within a three by three by three meter 'blast zone' into dust. Combined with his newly discovered use of Caliburn, as well as his slowed perception, he believed that he had invented a true Sorcerer's ability - to strike an enemy across a battlefield and utterly destroy everything in between. Dueling Harry without a Bunker shield active, or a similar absolute defense, was tantamount to suicide.

Harry didn't enjoy his new ability, however. There were too many drawbacks. He had actually managed to burst his spleen once, due to the speed of the attack, making it an absolute last resort. It was an instant kill, meaning that he would have no way to interrogate, or even to spare his opponent.

"If they knew all your abilities, they'd give you a Sorcerer's designation and ship you off to the Clocktower or something."

"And then I'd get a Sealing designation for my eyes, right?"

"What does all of that even mean? What's-" Hermione wondered.

"Never you mind, never you mind", both Harry and Daphne said at once.

**Mangekyo**

"Expecto Patronum!" Daphne waved her wand, and a huge silver lion burst out of her wand. It looked around, then walked back to her regally.

"I think that's your mental representation of Harry", Hermione decided.

The Patronus lion narrowed its eyes at Hermione.

"See, it even acts like Harry!"

The lion blinked twice, then disappeared.

Harry was staring out the window, Caliburn buried in the stone floor in front of him.

"Hey, don't be mad, Harry."

"I'm not. Just disappointed in myself."

"Not all of us need a Patronus, Harry. Remember what you did with the Kamui? It was infinitely more effective."

"I want one", Harry said quietly. "I want one, because that'd tell me that my life isn't so fucked up that I don't have the ability to pull all my happy memories into a single magical instance. My mother had the Sharingan, and she was capable of the Patronus. I know that for a fact. Snape told me."

Of course, Hermione didn't know what to say to that.

"You want a happy memory, Harry?" Daphne pursed her lips. "Fine, Harry. I'll give you a happy memory."

She fired a locking charm at the door and threw off her robe. She was wearing nightclothes underneath - a teddy and underwear. Harry could feel his face heat up. She was beautiful.

"What are you doing, Daphne?" Harry muttered. Hermione looked to be shocked into silence.

Daphne ripped off the teddy, something made of lace and silk, and threw it to the ground.

"Daphne. I..." Harry's expression was panicked. He took a deep breath and forced himself to look at Daphne's face. Hermione didn't seem to be able to do so, and a blush colored her cheek as she stared at Daphne's body, which was slim, with a pair of extremely attractive breasts that looked to be still developing. Her long blond hair cascaded over her frame.

Harry found himself appreciating her face, despite the fact that she was, in essence, flashing him. Her cheekbones were high, her mouth a pretty, perfect pout, and her nose was distinctly well proportioned. Her eyes, a shade of clear blue, had a sort of fire that no one else seemed to have. He noticed that his mouth was rather dry.

"I can't." He paused. "I can't take advantage of you like this." Without any more words, Harry undid the locking charm, and slipped out, then closed the door quickly behind him.

Daphne stood in the middle of the room for a moment, then she sank to her knees, and began to cry softly.

Hermione turned away, realizing that she had been staring at Daphne the entire time.

The door creaked open, and Daphne looked up, expecting to see Harry, but it was just Malfoy.

He stared transfixed at her breasts for a moment, then began to leer. "Undressed for me, haven't you, slut?"

Daphne didn't even have to move.

"Obliviate", Hermione declared smiling beatifically. "Ile mahea lantza!"

The first spell hit Malfoy between the eyes, and the second speared him in the stomach. Hermione hadn't even drawn her wand.

"What was that second bit?" Daphne wondered, forgetting that she was nearly nude for a moment.

"You walked into Harry Potter's training room, and were hit by a stray spell. You decided that the dueling was at a level you'd never seen before, and you are too scared to tell anyone about it. You have a pain in your stomach, and you need to check it out with Madame Pomfrey to make sure you aren't going to die." Hermione lowered her hand, and Malfoy ran off, presumably to the hospital wing.

"Your wandless magic is getting to be very good", Daphne said. "What was that last spell?"

"It was a Basque spell, the Spear of Hair, generally used for assassinations because it's impossible to see the thin line in the night. If it pierces your heart, you'd have a heart attack, but I just punctured his stomach. Nothing Madame Pompfrey can't heal."

She walked over to Daphne. "Come on, let's get you dressed." She handed Daphne the teddy, and resisted the urge to run her hand through the other girl's hair.

Daphne cast another locking charm at the door. "Why doesn't he want me?"

Hermione turned away.

"I wish I knew."

**Mangekyo**

"Is it possible to want someone that badly?" Harry asked the giant squid.

"I'm thirteen years old, a wizard with a mission. I thought I knew how everything would be until I had conquered or destroyed this world."

He paused.

"Is it just a distraction? It doesn't feel like a distraction. I'm sure I've just hurt her as surely as I've hurt myself." Tears dripped out of his left eye. He found that his tear ducts in his right Eye had been irreparably damaged.

He paused again, staring at the sunset.

"What if she stops loving me? What if I've killed what we had? What if I kill what we have by moving forward?"

The squid waved a tentacle at him.

"Until I figure this out, I'll pretend nothing happened, and work on the things I'm good at." He smiled.

"Do you know what I'm doing this summer, squid? I'm going to be travelling the world. It's Nineteen Ninety Four! It's an anti-Leap Year, meaning there's going to be over a hundred dueling circuits, as well as International Duel in Rome. I'm competing under another name, but I haven't decided what it'll be yet. When I come back, I'll have the skills to get a Sorcerer's designation, and enough to protect them."

"They're more important than Ovid ever was, you know? To think that I compared them to the snake in my First Year. If they died because they couldn't defend themselves..."

He walked closer to the lake and stared at his reflection.

"I'd kill myself. And everything along with me."

**Mangekyo**

Over Professor Lupin's last two weeks in Hogwarts, he had formed a tentative friendship with Snape, aided by Harry. He spoke with Harry about many things during his Hogwarts days.

"It was really hushed up, but your mother was something of a revolutionary during our days. She'd read the books she'd write to us about duels, and talk about how people approached equality in the Muggle world. There were a bunch of Muggleborns who'd get up at seven every Sunday morning to listen to her talk to us in the secondary library, which was covered in dust. Everyone sneezed alot, but we learned even more. She was a genius, you know, in part thanks to her eyes."

"She had a long affair with Narcissa Malfoy, actually. She was thirteen when she seduced the only blond Black and dragged the sixteen year old into closets all over the school. Filch never caught them, but they were both damn good with memory charms. It lasted until the older graduated, and she married Lucius Malfoy. Everyone was sort of surprised, and not. She resisted sleeping with him until the Dark Lord was defeated."

"Why do you call him the Dark Lord, Remus?" Harry wondered.

"That's what Werewolves call him. Dark creatures." Lupin grimaced. "It's a bad habit, but that's how everyone refers to him at the Compound."

"So you're going back to the Werewolf compound?"

"Yes. I don't like it there, but they'll help lock you up securely on the full moon, and leave a deer or something, even if it's conjured. It was actually a Potter reform. It sounds great in theory, but in practice, it's not a very nice place. It's sort of like a small town, with its own bar, muggle movie place, and cheap work for everyone. It's the best most of us can do."

Harry was upset by this, and vowed to change it.

"Oh no, it's not that bad", Lupin said, but it seemed sort of forced. "They even have dueling championships. There's prize money. I've won several times. It's around five thousand galleons of extra gold a year. In fact, I learned the Flurry just for that purpose." Lupin grinned - he loved dueling.

"Why don't you travel around and duel on the international circuit?"

"It's not that easy. There are people who are- Oh. That's a fair idea. This _is _Nineteen Ninety four, isn't it? Lots of idiots lined up for the spoils. I can register in the B ranked tournaments and earn a bit of gold." Harry smiled at Lupin's reasoning.

"Can you tell me about the Mage rank Dueling championships, Remus?"

"Of course. Most of the people who fancy themselves to be amazing, and people who are actually amazing sign up for those. The weaklings are weeded out in two or three rounds, and then the elimination rounds begin the next day. The most famous one is the weeklong event at Rome. The tournament is divided into Day-blocks, generally four of them, and the best eight duelists, judged by ten person panels, will be entered into the Midsummer Day Eliminations. It's happening just days before the Quidditch World Cup, so it's a lively year."

Snape, who had been silently brewing batch after batch of Wolfsbane in the corner, realized that Harry was smirking in a very dangerous way.


	28. The Eyes of the Duel: Part One

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor the Mangekyo Sharingan, nor anything from the Nasuverse that you recognize.

tjg: Only one duel happens at once in the final rounds of the competition, so Harry's going to be fine. I like to think it's better than a Chidori (I was thinking of the similarities myself), and I thought that the Caliburn just had more latent piercing power than a bit of electricity - it's the Sword from the Stone! It's not very useful (seeming), but you might a bit of it used... ingeniously soon. Daphne getting turned down was a more realistic writing of Harry, I think. But... Magical Girl Daphne Greengrass? TROLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL.

Author's Note: I don't know if I should rate this M or not, after this chapter. If you're going to tell me, please give me a logical reason why I should or shouldn't do so.

**Mangekyo**

They were silent on the train, but Harry made an effort to put his arms around Daphne protectively, even as Hermione looked on enviously.

It was a well-rehearsed routine, but for the fact that Harry had slept, burying his face in Daphne's neck. The incident with the Patronus was the furthest from her mind as they slept in each other's arms.

Hermione, across from them, continued to read Intermediate Wandless Magic, and glanced up occasionally, wondering why she wasn't quite as bold as Daphne, even if she was sorted into Gryffindor.

When they left the train, Harry gave Astoria a hug in passing, and a polite bow to Lady Greengrass, then utilized the Kamui to disappear as he passed the barrier between Platform Nine and Three Quarters and King's Cross.

He appeared behind Number Four Privet Drive with plans for the cheesily named 'Rome Duels!' running through his mind.

Absentmindedly unlocking the door, he managed to scare his Aunt Petunia so badly she broke every dish in the sink.

"I'm going to be gone again this summer, the entire time."

"Good riddance."

"Likewise."

**Mangekyo**

Harry enjoyed Rome. His Italian wasn't very good - the pronunciation was trouble - but his scholarly knowledge of Latin, equivalent to many, many years of study in the dead language, made his touring of the Vatican very comfortable. Of course, he realized exactly where the muggle side of the Catholic Church ended and the magical side began.

Of all the magical organizations in the world, the Catholic Church was one of the most dangerous. Harry was fairly sure they could call no less than eight sorcerers to the fore if the occasion demanded it, and the only reason Albus Dumbledore got away with everything he did was because the old man had engineered a deadlock between the Mage's Association, the Church, and all of America to keep mundane Britain in high regard.

Harry snorted. He couldn't believe that the Church and the Mage's Association referred to Wizards as mundane. That was ridiculous. All the most powerful spells in the world... even his thoughts trailed off.

Of course, he was in costume for the event. He wore a red cloak with the cuneiform for 'Conquering King' on the back, earning several glances from what must have been church wizards. His face was obscured by no less than fourteen Nordic series, which he had become very well acquainted with after the incident with Charlemange's tomb.

The Caliburn was kept inside a baton-like walking stick which never came close to touching the ground, but the command to Fly would cause it to break through the transfigured faux-stick, and allow Harry to battle anyone on equal grounds.

Already, the city was filling with true personalities, and Harry had never been so excited in his life. The magical power of every other person in the Magical district of Rome was at least equal to his.

But he had several things they didn't. He was easily one of the most powerful Mind Mages in the world, due to his intense study in Legilimency beaten only by experience. However, experience had nothing on the dual shocks of Caliburn and Tsukuyomi. The Red Moon was the most powerful Mind magic Harry knew of by a long margin.

The duels didn't prohibit killing, but Harry felt reluctant about using either the Amaterasu or the Fly command. The second would mark him a fugitive from British Aurors for killing one of theirs, and the first would probably set the sights of the entire world on him.

He didn't even entertain the possibility of using the Susano'o. It was literally mythical, and while Japanese wizards wouldn't have recognized the Black flames - the Shining Heaven would be confused with Necromancy - the huge visage of the Storm God, a Mirror lined with the Eight Trigrams, and a sword drawn from a jar of Sake... was simply too easily noticed.

And then, there was the Kamui, the Miracle of Space-Time. Harry didn't dare use that. The Sealing Designation joke would have become a reality, depending on how well he could defeat other mages.

He decided that if worse came to worse, it'd be damn easy for him to escape - there was literally no logical power that could defeat the Kamui when used as a getaway. The Rune sequences used to stop House Elves from leaving and entering didn't take into account the holes that already existed in Space-Time, but rather, preserved it. It was akin to hardening Swiss Cheese. It stopped it from tearing, but not from things flying through it.

Several days before 'Rome Duels!' started, Harry registered, earning a place in Day Block One, of four.

Harry stared at the names in the other blocks, consisting of around a hundred contestants per C class, fifty per B class, thirty per A class, and twenty people who fancied themselves to be mages (only eight of the twenty, across the board, had a mage's or sorcerer's designation from an earlier tournament).

Harry registered (paying nearly five hundred galleons) as a first time duelist in the Mage class, earning jeers from the other registrars, as James Evans. He figured that paying homage to his parents with a nice and anonymous British name would not be too much of a risk, even if Albus Dumbledore was present.

He headed back to his hotel room afterwards.

He received a scotch and soda from room service, grinning triumphantly when he didn't even have to use his Sharingan to avoid inquiries about his age.

"My, that looks good."

Harry jumped, and only his enhanced reflexes and slowed perception kept him from spilling his drink.

The Fae girl, more than partially undressed, was laying voluptuously on his bed, her thin, silvery hair spread about his pillow.

"It's been exactly a year, so here's the third warning. Tonight at midnight, I will perform a ritual that requires you! But first", she smirked, pulling him into the bed with him and levitating the glass of scotch onto the bedside table, "tell me a story", she whispered in his ear.

**Mangekyo**

"Be glad, you're the first person in over a thousand years to see our runes. They'd be invisible to your mortal eyes, but you don't quite have mortal eyes, do you?" she teased.

He stood in the middle of a ritual circle and stared chanting.

"I am Harry Potter, I am the soul of the King, a boy ready to become man ready to repay his debts due to a promise accorded a year and a day ago. I do not regret a single pledge I have made."

He had been slathered in gallons of the blood of a Re'em, a creature of legend - supposed the physically strongest in the world. Harry didn't even dare ask where the Fae girl had gotten so much of the very rare substance.

"I am Harry Potter, I am pure of flesh, a boy ready to become a man by repaying his debts due to a promise accorded a year and a day ago. I do not regret a single pledge I have made."

The Fae girl was equally covered in Unicorn's blood. Harry grimaced. Unicorn's blood was even more difficult to get without consent, but he supposed the Fae had it easier in that regard.

"I am Harry Potter, I am strong of spirit, a boy ready to become a man by repaying his debts due to a promise accorded a year and a day ago. I do not regret a single pledge I have made."

"Is that so, Harry Potter? Well, then fall to your knees."

Harry knelt.

"I am Scáthach, I am the soul of the Kingmaker, a Fae who transcends time ready to accept the pledge of Harry Potter."

Harry's eyes widened, and he couldn't stifle the gasp in his throat. She grasped him by the throat and threw him to the ground, and began to fuck him. There was no other words for it, Harry decided - it was so fast-paced and violent that he couldn't believe it, and in minutes, he was a virgin no longer.

"Your service will be called upon once in a while. I will appear to you, Harry."

And with that, she was gone, leaving him covered with a mix of blood that wasn't his, and bodily fluids that might have been.

He didn't move for a while.

**Mangekyo**

Day Block One always had the most spectators. Huge names that had the right to sit in the Mage's Box in the huge Colosseum where the events took place competed on day one.

Huge names like Albus Dumbledore, Lorelei Barthomeloi, and Nicholas Flamel.

Of course, none of the big names fought each other.

"Oh, that's just brutal", Harry muttered, as he watched the second in the small list he had cultivated charge a huge burst of magic from eight points in her body. "It's almost as if she has multiple magical cores..."

"They're called circuits, you know", said a girl next to him with long red hair.

"Circuits? I'm sorry. I was raised as a Wizard. I'm not familiar with a bunch of these terms."

"Wizards have little to no power compared to most Mages because they have only a single magical circuit, which they call a core. Everyone has dormant magical circuits, but I hear that the awakening process is quite painful. Of course, there are some of us Mages who only need a small number of circuits." She smirked, then paused.

"How are you able to see the circuits anyway?"

Harry was slightly alarmed. "Err, I've got good eyes", he said.

"And here I thought you actually didn't know what magical circuits were", she admonished gently.

"I don't!" Harry protested. "I had no idea you could have more than one!"

The duel ended immediately. A huge gout of cutting wind shredded the hapless combatant in the arena, very nearly removing multiple limbs.

"That was unnecessarily harsh."

"Do you really think so?" the girl frowned.

"No", Harry said. They both chuckled.

"Ow-ko Ow-zack-hi? and Aloysius Rabinowich!" came the voice of the announcer.

"Oh, I hate being Japanese", the girl muttered, as she daintly jumped out of her seat and landed on the floor of the Dueling Pit.

"Begin!" the announcer shouted, after Aloysius Rabinowich finally made it down the stairs into the Pit.

"Mangekyo Sharingan", Harry muttered, deciding that watching with two senses of perception would be good.

It happened very quickly, and only his Eye of Eternity picked it up. A tiny black dot of some sort, only visible because Harry was watching, glowed and exploded, turning the man into a bloody mess.

Of course, Harry had seen very many powerful spells in his lifetime, most of them cast by himself. He wasn't disturbed by the girl's ability.

He was disturbed by the spell's resemblance of the Amaterasu, and the fact that his left Kaleidoscope simply could not perceive it.

The girl flopped into the seat next to Harry.

"That was quick", he smirked.

"You shouldn't do that. It's really creepy to see only the bottom half of your face", she replied.

"Nicholas Flamel and Suo Jing!"

Nicholas Flamel raised his hand, and the man sunk into the ground down to his mouth.

"That's a useful trick", Harry muttered.

"I'd imagine. He's the most powerful sorcerer in the world. Albus Dumbledore only beat him with a technicality."

"Dionysus Karahalios and James Evans!"

"That's me, beautiful", Harry jumped down to the Dueling Pit, landing much like Ow-ko Ow-zack-hi did. She cheered loudly.

Dionysus Karahalios was a big man. His hands gripped a very large wand, and he walked with a sort of confidence that reminded Harry of the bikers in the bars of East End. Caliburn's quick analysis decided that he was the sort that knew a lot of Dark Arts and specialty spells.

Harry made the decision to prolong the duel, hoping to gain access to the specialty spells.

"Begin!"

They circled each other. Harry was much shorter than the man, being a hundred and sixty five centimeters to the man's two hundred. Karahalios lost his patience first.

"Ruina ventrem!"

Harry dodged the spell easily. It was slow and he'd seen the Gut Smasher before.

"Alvus dispensae!"

A higher end Dark curse now. Harry moved out of the way, and looked up at the stands. The girl with the mispronounced name was frowning.

Harry transfigured a brace of heavy metal spikes as he had seen McGonagall use two years ago, and with a flick of his wand, ten times as many flew at the man. It was a very heavy duty conjuration, but Transfiguration came very easily for him.

Karahalios threw up a shield that Harry hadn't seen before and crouched behind it. The shield turned the spikes into molten metal so hot that the sand around him turned into glass.

"Impressive!" barked the man in Latin.

"Indeed, your shield is", Harry replied in the same language. He loved dueling tournaments. Everyone understood Latin here.

"Ponno tis ammou!" the man shouted in Greek. The sand beneath Harry's feet heated up and attempted to swallow him, but when he undid the strands of magic attached to the man's wand, it fell away. Karahalios widened his eyes, and tried the spell again.

"That's not how you do it", Harry chided. "Ponno tis ammou!" he shouted at the very, very surprised man, pointing at the sand around the man's feet.

The spell known as Pain of Sand was intensely difficult to use. The mechanics, Harry realized, were to enchant a portion of the sand that mixed with the sand in the general area, picking up grains that weren't enchanted with a kind of suction that allowed a single grain per thousands to have control.

Harry decided to go for overkill, and enchanted the hundreds of thousands of grains, instead of the hundreds that the man had.

"Ooh, rudimentary sentience!" Harry exclaimed, as the sand became a sand monster, complete with whipping tentacles, which ripped off the man's arm.

Unfortunately, it also targeted him.

"You know, sand thing, the answer is no! Shanan il Haneur!" Waterfall of the River God was from a time before the monotheism of Islam, and should have been evoked in Persian, but Harry liked the stability of Arabic more.

A huge deluge poured forth from his wand, purifying the enchanted sand, and crushing the other man. When the water receded, Karahalios was gasping for breath, and had most likely broken the majority of his bones.

"Pou to Skadi tou Adi!" he screamed.

It would be his last curse. This was clearly a variation on the Killing Curse made even more Dark and deadly. As it headed toward Harry, the sand and water vapor in the air simply ceased to exist.

"Kamui."

The Divine Might swallowed up the curse and spit it out behind the man. The curse continued its original trajectory and hit Karahalios, instantly killing him and desiccating the corpse.

"That's disgusting", Harry remarked, as he returned to his seat. Ow-ko nodded in assent.

Three more duels later, and Day One was concluded.

"I love your style", the girl whose properly pronounced name was Aoko said. "I hope to duel you at some point. I really don't know what you did at the end, though."

Harry smirked and kissed her hand, then winked away, appearing in his hotel room.

"Now, who is he anyways?" the girl wondered.


	29. The Eyes of the Duel: Part Two

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor the Mangekyo Sharingan, nor anything from the Nasuverse that you recognize.

Author's Note: Still not sure about the M rating. I only have two opinions at the moment, and they're both from long-time reviewers that have very good points. Please, help me out, guys?

**Mangekyo**

"Hey Lorelei!" said Aoko with a wide smile.

The Vice Director of the Mage's Association shuddered. It was a conditioned response. Everyone shuddered when they talked to Aoko Aozaki.

"What can I do for you, Blue?"

"Oh, nothing much! Can I have a bunch of files on James Evans?"

"Whose that?" the head of House Barthomeloi wondered.

She was a celebrated mage, as was the rest of her family. She was nearly over the cusp of the Sorcerer's designation, but she was different from everyone on the Wizengamot, and even the Mage's Association.

She was a Sorcerer by magecraft alone. She didn't have any Bloodlines, nor any Selections. Each and every one of her magical circuits were developed in three ways - blood, sweat, or tears. The Barthomeloi Crest, which contained the magical circuits of the older generations had nothing but pure, raw magic - and oodles of it. But it was only her dedication to the Divine Wind and her Mystic Eyes, also developed by practice, that made her powerful.

In truth, she was capable of many things that other Mages wouldn't have even dreamed of, due to her hard work and specialization. People were seriously afraid of her, and logically so.

Of course, Blue defied all logic. The girl was _scary_. "James Evans." Aoko put her forefinger on her chin. "I don't know! That's why I'm asking you. He's the one who killed the Sand Enforcer with his own spell!"

"I don't know either. Neither does Albus, or Nicholas. I think Albus suspects a whole host of people, but nothing ever bothers Nicholas anyway."

"Yes, he can kill us all pretty easily, can't he?" Aoko noted cheerfully. "See you later!" She _exploded_, and was gone. A bit of soot landed on Lorelei's face. Barthomeloi of Barthomeloi grimaced.

**Mangekyo**

"Nicky!" Aoko shouted.

"Quiet down!" hissed a woman's voice.

"Hey Perry!" she shouted.

"Aoko..." the woman trailed off. Perenelle Flamel was _old_, but she didn't look it. "Nicholas is out, enjoying the night life. Please don't disturb him. He works too hard..."

"Sure, Perry!" Aoko exploded, but Perenelle easily contained it with a wave of her hand. She glared at the vacated area. "Children", she hissed.

**Mangekyo**

"Albus!"

"Why hello, Miss Blue."

"Don't say my name like that. It's really creepy."

"Of course, of course. What can I do for you, my dear?" Albus Dumbledore ran his hand through his beard.

"I'm not your dear."

"Of course, of course, Miss Blue. What can I do for you?"

"Whose James Evans?"

"The charming young, middle-aged, or old Englishman or woman you were speaking to? I thought you knew, my dear", Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. A latent Legilimenic probe pushed forward, but it dissipated as it hit Aoko.

"Whatever."

She vanished, just as Albus sidestepped the (substantially larger than usual) explosion.

**Mangekyo**

Harry was practicing Occlumency, sorting through all the spells that he had seen, when a card was delivered to him.

"Congratulations, Mr. Evans?" he stared at the card through his Right Eternity.

He opened it.

_You have been selected as Seventh Seed by the panel of Rome Duels! The final stretch of the tournament will begin at Nine in the morning on Midsummer's Day. You will be dueling Second, against Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore at Ten in the morning_.

"Well, crap."

Another page fell out of the card, illustrating the Five Pillar Evaluations of each contestant.

_Albus Dumbledore: Power: Ten. Skill: Ten. Speed: Seven. Devices: Unknown. Bloodline - First Blaze: Ten_.

"Well, crap."

_James Evans: Power: Eight. Skill: Ten. Speed: Nine. Devices: Unknown. Bloodline - Unknown._

"That's not really _my_ skill, is it?" he laughed at his private joke.

_Aoko Aozaki: Power: Ten. Skill: Four. Speed: Ten. Devices: Aozaki Crest: Nine. Bloodline - Miracle of Entropy: Ten._

"What the hell is the Miracle of Entropy?" Harry put the card away, glancing at the other names for a moment, wincing when he noticed that Nicholas Flamel had scored a ten in each category, including speed, despite his age. The Philosopher's Stone clearly counted as a Level Ten device.

"Now... to contemplate the mystery of the Sand of Pain..."

**Mangekyo**

"Today is the Midsummer's Day Elimination Duels! Hopefully there won't be too many eliminations", the announcer joked to a bunch of boos, speaking in Latin. "We have a bunch of very big names here for the last set of duels! The first event will be the forty three time champion Nicholas Flamel, the world's foremost alchemist, and a challenger from America, a distant relative of Arcus the American, Phil Weston!"

Flamel, the first seed and best rated duelist in the world, walked onto the sands of the Dueling Pit. The other man, who looked a bit stringy to say the least, seemed ready to quit.

"Begin!"

A violet spell left Phil Weston's fingers, which Flamel dodged easily. When the spell landed, it exploded into a cloud of purple smoke, obscuring the arena from view, but Flamel blew it away with what must have been a wind based spell within a moment.

Harry watched as Flamel's eyes began throwing magical strands in the same manner as the Basilisk he had encountered in the Chamber, though even the oldest sorcerer in the world paled in comparison to the older (but now dead) snake.

It seemed that Phil Weston was a student of the Dueling Flurry - he sent spell set after spell set, which Harry isolated into Dark curses, Elemental spells and Dueling-class spells.

Flamel was, for the lack of a better word, brilliant. He didn't even have to use the vaunted powers of the Philosopher's Stone as he countered each spell with one of his own. Harry decided that the man had either some sort of foresight, or just enough knowledge of which spells were properly grouped with the Dueling Flurry that the style was useless against him.

Harry grew more and more excited as he learned how to perform nearly two hundred new curses, and three hundred countercurses, despite the fact that many of them were repetitive to a degree.

Weston had nearly passed out from the effort - he was wheezing slightly, and his mouth dripped with blood from the casual spells that Flamel sent at him once in a while, most of which must have done damage to his internal organs.

Harry watched as Flamel waved his hands and the amount of latent magic he was using doubled.

"Is that the power of the Philosopher's Stone?" he wondered aloud.

"Of course not. The Philosopher's Stone is far more powerful", came a very familiar voice next to him.

"Hello, Aoko", Harry said.

"How are you enjoying the duel, James?"

"It's a learning experience", Harry said, not lying in the least.

"Yes, watching Nicky duel is... enlightening", Aoko decided. "Who are you dueling?"

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore", Harry responded, smirking.

"That's a mouthful", Aoko decided.

The crowd screamed in shock or excitement. Harry looked down to see Flamel's hands covered in a yellow glow.

Flamel caught spell after spell, and the yellow glow increased.

"He's going to release all that stored energy at Weston, isn't he?" Harry wondered.

"Yeah, that's how Nicky fights with the Philosopher's stone. When he explained it to me, he said that there's reality and there's Truth, and that the Philosopher's stone can change the Truth. I have no idea what that means. I'm only good for blowing things up." For a moment, Harry thought he saw a trace of insecurity in Aoko's eyes.

Flamel pointed his hands at Weston, and let loose a blast of pure energy, turning the other man into dust.

"Why, how brutal!" Aoko remarked.

"Do you really think so?" Harry asked, repeating Aoko's question from his experiences in Day Block One.

"No." They both chuckled again, and Aoko leaned against him. "I like you, James", she decided.

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but the announcer had begun to speak.

"The second event will be the current world Champion Albus Dumbledore, the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and a previously unknown mage, James Evans, the second and seventh seed respectively!"

Harry jumped down onto the sands again, but Dumbledore chose the more dignified route of walking to his end of the Dueling Pit, down several flights of stairs, quite slowly.

"Begin!"

Neither of them moved for a second, then they both exploded into action.

Harry drew out nearly a hundred slips of paper with his wand, a different rune series on each one. Dumbledore began casting at what a normal person would consider a terrifying rate, but Harry dodged and ducked each spell as the paper swirled around him like a miniature whirlwind.

The paper settled even as Dumbledore fired spell after spell - this time at the stationary paper, attempting to destroy Harry's runic enchantments before he could activate them, but Harry's skill at what he called Strand Dissection and general usage of an M-designated Bunker shield, a much stronger variant of the original, kept any of the paper from being damaged, even by a torrent of water that Dumbledore fired. Harry evaporated it easily with an overpowered boiling charm.

Harry began drawing the Sumerian runes series that he couldn't draw on paper for fear of early activation.

"What's he doing?" Lorelei Barthomeloi asked Nicholas Flamel.

"If I'm not mistaken, the characters on the paper slips are Nordic and Egyptian series. The ones that he are drawing... He is skilled indeed."

"What is he drawing?"

"Sumerian Soul and Mind runes. The Nordic Runes are Control runes, and the Egyptian runes are Elemental Shielding runes. I think he's-"

"Ponno tis ammou!" Harry shouted as he pointed at the makeshift pentagram that he had drawn his Sumerian series around, flooding over a million grains of sand with the Pain of Sand spell that he had learned from Karahalios.

A huge racoon shaped _thing_ rose out of the sand as even Nicholas Flamel stared in shock. The Sumerian series glowed and traveled up the sand to encircle the construct's torso, giving it higher sentience. The three hundred and forty two paper slips sank into the Sand Raccoon, giving Harry intuitive control over it.

"He's a runic prodigy", remarked Perenelle Flamel. "It would take most mages three or four years to create something like that, depending on whether or not they blew themselves up often. He completed it in less than a week."

Aoko nodded.

Albus Dumbledore wasn't very worried - James Evans had shown the world how to defeat Sand Constructs already. He stared at the... he wracked his brain to think of the proper term... Tanuki, the Japanese Raccoon in front of him. "Vaosara ko pruthvi ke kalauka ko suddha juuane!"

The Hindi spell known as Waters Join to Purify the Earth was one of the pinnacle Elemental spells that Dumbledore knew of, but despite this, the huge torrent that bombarded the Sand Tanuki from all sides hit a circular runic barrier and dissipated.

"Amazing! It's impervious to water!" a woman who had been defeated in Day Block One gaped.

The various people in the Mage's box nodded.

"The Sand Demon won't defeat Albus Dumbledore", decided Flamel.

"Why's that, dear? Albus doesn't seem to be doing very well against it", Perenelle remarked. True to her words, Dumbledore was now dodging the creature madly.

Aoko nodded, "because if it's impervious to water, it's not impervious to-"

"Blaze of Merlin, attend me!" Dumbledore roared. A huge Phoenix shaped burst of flame flew at the Sand Demon and superheated it, literally vaporizing all of the paper slips and turning it into molten glass.

Harry wove around the spells that Dumbledore fired at him furiously, his wand glowing in the light, and then he made a decision.

"Fly, Caliburn!"

_Ting_.

The sword was stuck in mid air for a pregnant pause when Dumbledore stared at the sword that was about to impale him between the eyes blandly.

"Is that his Absolute Defense?" Lorelei asked.

"Yes. That's the H. L. K. Mastershield. It is equivalent to any physical attack against it, and can stop anything from flying pens to wrecking balls, the second of which I recall having banished at him several years ago", said Nicholas.

"Are there any weaknesses to it?" Aoko wondered.

"Not that I know of", the alchemist admitted. "But it won't stop pure spells, only transfigurations and magical objects."

Harry transfigured his thousand spikes (still inspired by McGonagall) and began to pelt Dumbledore with it. The Mastershield blocked each and every spike from damaging the man. The ran of spikes continued as Dumbledore fired spells back, not bothering to even think about the spikes when a blunted spike zipped straight through his absolute defense and dislocated his shoulder. Dumbledore crashed to the ground, but got up immediately, having fixed his shoulder as he fell..

"I thought you said it was an absolute defense!" Aoko complained.

Nicholas frowned. "I think that Dumbledore has to command it specifically to block off a certain type of attack. If you'd look, the spike dislocated his shoulder, meaning that it wasn't sharp enough to pierce it. Blunt force trauma... Albus must have decided to guard against stab wounds as opposed to other-"

A long, thin needle pierced the old man through the thigh, even as hammers and a muggle stove was blocked by the Mastershield.

"Ahh, I understand. His Mastershield has various settings. If he wants it to block prickly things like the spikes, it will. If he wants it to catch all of those magnificently conjured hammers, it will. It won't do both."

Apparently, Harry didn't get the memo. He looked confused as to why some of his transfigurations were working and the others weren't.

"He's faking. He knows the weakness already", announced Nicholas.

"Fly, Caliburn", Harry shouted. Dumbledore, who knew the stab would be fatal, changed his Mastershield to intercept pointy objects.

Harry flew at Dumbledore at speeds that only the Mages could register.

And then, his coup de grace was made known.

Harry had aimed over Dumbledore's shoulder, and had landed a high speed knee into Dumbledore's ribs, cracking and breaking nearly every single one.

Dumbledore fell to the ground, blood streaming out of his mouth.

"Yield. The old man yields."

"Winner, James Evans."


	30. The Eyes of the Duel: Part Three

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor the Mangekyo Sharingan, nor anything from the Nasuverse that you recognize.

DaDragon562: Since your pm feature's disabled and all... He might not be meeting any demons soon, but the other bit of your review... he might be using that soon :P

**Mangekyo**

"I'm sort of amazed. You beat Albus Dumbledore."

"Not really", admitted Harry. "Albus Dumbledore never duels to kill, unless he's to kill by dueling."

"That doesn't make any- oh, it does", said Aoko. She blushed lightly. "I'm not really smart. Not like my sister", she muttered. "You still beat him though!"

"Aoko, be realistic. He's the second most powerful man in the world, barring the guy eavesdropping on our conversation."

Nicholas Flamel huffed.

A puff of wind picked up Lorelei Barthomeloi and slowly deposited her on the Dueling Pit. The sand stirred into a concentric pattern.

"Show off", said Aoko.

"She's a Wind Mage?"

"Yes, she's the best in the world. She's the Vice Director of the Mage's Association and one of the four Wizard Marshalls."

"Who are the Wizard Marshalls?"

"You've been living under a rock, haven't you, wizard boy?" Aoko smiled. Her red hair swirled about her face. "Why can't you show your face?" she wondered.

"Err, because it's really obvious that my name isn't James Evans, and some people around here might recognize me, which would really throw a wrench in my plans to take over the world?"

"It's funny, because I'm rather sure you're not lying, young man", said Nicholas Flamel, who was sitting behind them. Harry grimaced slightly.

It appeared that both of the quarterfinalists currently dueling, the third seed Lorelei of House Barthomeloi and the sixth seed Frederick Hozzenholorn, a Prussian noble of sorts, were both wind mages.

The Prussian was no match for the Vice Director of the Mage's Association and he knew it - he was spending the majority of the magic flowing from his core- no, _circuits_ to make sure that he was capable of surviving one of the many, many instant-kill blows that Aoko told Harry that Lorelei was capable of.

Harry almost felt sorry for copying the wind spells that danced from the woman's fingers. They were clearly original works - he'd never seen anything like the eighty or so wind blades dancing on strands of magic that she controlled effortlessly. Her eyes glowed, and Harry assumed that she had something that allowed her to concentrate on more than one thing at once, much like his Sharingan.

And then, it was all over.

A glowing glob of pure magic descended into Lorelei's wand hand, and began to spin. The Mithril claw that she wore on her other began to trace an Elemental Change rune, and somehow, most likely due to years and years of practice, the spinning sphere of magic began to spin in multiple directions - all according to his right Eternity.

It was an impossible technique to copy. There were no unnecessary hand motions, or even words. Just a whole bunch of magic controlled by the said Wizard Marshall's mind.

It spun quicker and quicker, as the Prussian man attempted to disrupt her by sending a multitude of transfigurations. It was no use. Either the Mithril claw shattered the object, or the wind blowing around her rendered his offense into her defense.

Very suddenly, the Elemental Change merged with the spinning, no, _spiralling_ sphere of magic, and it glowed green, emitting an unearthly howl.

As she opened more and more circuits, pouring her magic into a construction that Harry was sure could have ripped through his Sand Demon as easily as the First Blaze had destroyed it, it grew larger, and Lorelei was no longer able to hold it in front of her. She hoisted it into the air, as it doubled, tripled, and then doubled and tripled again in size.

A set of ethereal blades of wind formed around the middle of the sphere, and they began to curve wickedly.

She released it suddenly, and it flew at speeds that even his eye of Eternity could barely comprehend.

He watched as it tunneled through the eight shields that the Prussian raised without losing any momentum, and then ripped the man into his constituent cells. It was then that Harry realized the spinning sphere was actually a collection of microscopic wind blades.

"My god..." he whispered, barely comprehending the destructive nature of her magic.

"_Your_ god, sonny? I'm fighting her next!" Nicholas Flamel roared in laughter.

"W-winner, L-lorelei B-b-barthomeloi", the announcer whispered as he stared at the very deep crater the masterwork of wind had created. His voice was clearly heard due to the Sonorus charm that he had put on it, and everyone couldn't help but know how suitable the scared whisper had been.

"Go Lorelei!" Aoko shouted, her voice deafening in a quiet stadium, clearly not understanding, or caring, why everyone was so afraid.

Nicholas and Harry shook their heads in an astonishingly similar manner.

"Next round, Fourth and Fifth seeds, Ow-ko Ow-zack-hi and Olga Barbarski!" the announcer decided, regaining some of his confidence.

Aoko landed on the sand gracefully. It appeared that the Polish mage knew exactly who she was dueling. She was literally trembling.

Of course, Aoko taunted her.

"Aren't you even going to put up a fight?"

The Polish mage whimpered, and Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Begin!"

The world exploded. The strange thing was, when he closed his right Eye reflexively, he wasn't aware of any magic occurring.

It appeared that the Right Eternity shared a very special brand of magic with Aoko.

Harry reviewed her sparsely filled information card, and wondered about the Aozaki crest, as well as the Miracle of Entropy.

Olga Barbaski fell apart piece by piece. It was almost disgusting to watch, as each of her limbs slowly crumbled, and she fell into dust.

"Do all her opponents end up like that?" Harry asked Nicholas.

"If they're lucky", he said solemnly.

"The way the seeds go, I'm her next opponent, right?"

"Looks like your dreams of world domination won't be realized, kid", Flamel decided.

"Right", Harry muttered.

The was a stunned silence for several minutes.

"We have advanced into semifinals!" shouted an enthusiastic announcer, who chose to ignore the last two duels. "The first round will be Nicholas Flamel and Lorelei Barthomeloi!"

"I won't go easy on you just because you're one of my students", Nicholas decided.

"Wasn't that what you said to Albus Dumbledore before he kicked your ass, Nicky?"

'Nicky' growled at Aoko - though he didn't look very threatening.

Of course, what really happened was that Albus managed to hit him with a tripping jinx, and a spell he was charging blew up in his face, causing him to pass out. It was a well-known story, according to Aoko.

"Begin!"

Nicholas immediately drew his sword to compensate for the fact that Lorelei had a huge Mithril claw on one hand.

For several tense minutes, it wasn't exactly a Mage's duel - they were just fighting one another. Nicholas truly knew how to use a sword against an opponent who used another, more agile, weapon. The huge Claymore-sized piece was used with one hand, and its power seemed to be in its weight, rather than its ability to cut. Each time he missed, and it hit the sand, the pressure behind the strike would compress the general area into sandstone. Harry assumed that Flamel didn't actually hit that hard, and in reality, it was the enchantments behind the sword that was pressurizing the ground.

When the Barthomeloi clan head finally switched to Wind magic, there was a sigh of satisfaction from the crowd. The swordplay (from Flamel) and the dancing Mithril claw was amazing to watch, but ultimately, it was too fast for them to follow. Most of the mages didn't have that problem, but there were quite many tourists there.

For a moment, Harry thought the slicing blade of wind was going to kill Nicholas Flamel, but the man managed to brush it out of the way with a hand motion. Harry realized that he was utilizing what seemed to be an Elemental version of the Charge Step. Flamel had built huge pressure fields right over his skin, so that anything he touched would be distorted by his force, even if it was just a light brush. Spells literally rolled off of him, and elemental manipulations were no better.

"I have to learn how to do that", Harry and Aoko said at the same time.

"She just can't hit him", he commented.

"Yeah, he's too fast, and when she does, it's glancing, further made useless by the fact that nothing can touch him."

"Oh, she's using the sphere trick again."

Sure enough, she had formed the spinning magical sphere, and pushed it into his chest, sending him flying. There was suddenly a tense hush, then Nicholas got up, and Harry was rewarded with a look into his heart through the gaping hole in his torso.

Instead of a beating organ, there was a blood red stone, pumping silver liquid through his veins.

He had replaced his heart with the Philosopher's stone, and it possibly hadn't stopped producing the Elixir of Life for hundreds of years.

Suddenly, there was a surge of magic from the Philosopher's stone, and Flamel's skin took on a silvery sheen.

He began moving at least three times as fast as he did before.

In a single motion, he shattered the Mithril claw with his sword, and was suddenly behind Lorelei, his sword against her throat.

"Yield", he said, his voice heard through a silent Colloseum.

"I yield", she said shakily. "You are still far beyond me, Lord Philosopher."

"I suppose it's time for our duel now, Aoko."

She giggled. "If I kill you, know for a fact that I would have went out with you."

Harry narrowed his eyes for a second, feeling a bit out of depth around a sixteen year old weapon of mass destruction. _With a perfect body_, a strange part of his mind noted, which he ruthlessly squashed. He had to duel now!

"James Evans and Ow-ko Ow-zack-hi!"

They both landed on the sand, but a magically charged push sent Harry careening to the other side of the Dueling Pit. He got up. "Well played." he muttered. The crowd grumbled, thinking he might have been damaged. He wasn't.

"Begin!"

The Black Point, as he called the spell that she used (he didn't know whether it was a spell or something more, like the magic from his eyes), appeared _on_ him quite suddenly. He realized that it had probably happened when she 'pushed' him.

"That's not good. That's... not good at all. Kamui." He winked out of existence, putting as much space away from the Black Point as possible within the Dueling Pit, just as it detonated.

His right Eternity decided that it removed a radius from existence, which would have taken out most of his abdomen. His left Kaleidoscope didn't see anything.

"That should have followed you even if you Apparated." Aoko's eyes widened.

"I didn't Apparate." Harry, who had run out of runic slips in his duel with Dumbledore (not that the Sand Demon would not have been shredded by the Black Point anyway), decided to play more conservatively, and used an abbreviated version of Flitwick's chain.

She didn't Shield or even dodge, choosing instead to erase the spells from existence with the Black Point. Very suddenly, a lyre materialized in her hands.

"Is that the Symphony of Orpheus?" Lorelei wondered aloud in the stands.

"I do believe so", responded Nicholas. "I don't even want to think about where she went to get _that_."

She began playing the lyre masterfully, and Harry watched as huge strands of illusionary magic reached him. Fortunately, he was able to dissect them, despite the difficulty, though most of his ability with the Right Eternity was tied up in making sure he wasn't put to sleep or worse. Aoko was slightly unstable, and would possibly end his life even if he was passed out. Of course, that made her slightly more attractive.

"It's the danger. And the psychosis", he decided. Both Hermione and Daphne had their issues, and he didn't even want to _think_ about Scathach, the third of which he wasn't even sure he could tolerate seeing again.

"Watch carefully, James Evans! This might be the last thing you see." Aoko began chanting very quickly in what sounded like gibberish to most of the audience. But Harry knew better. It was a high-speed Aria, in which the different layers of the spell were sung together, creating a clashing dissonance that was hard to do, but allowed her to fire spells much quicker than what would have been thought possible.

It still took a little while, speaking volumes about how powerful the spell was, though she was still playing the lyre...

And then the lyre was gone, and it seemed as if a fireworks show had appeared in her hands.

"This is the Starbow, James Evans. I must say that I liked you, but I really have to win."

And spell after spell was fired from it. Its speed made the Dueling Flurry look like child's play.

Worse yet was that it wasn't much that Harry could copy, just a deluge of high powered blasting curses and the like, each one made infinitely more deadly with a little Black Point that only his right Eternity could perceive.

"Susano'o!"

She was firing nearly thirty spells a second.

Harry simply couldn't keep up, and he knew beforehand due to frantic whispers by Caliburn. Therefore, gold and silver mist leaked out of him, and a huge sake jar was formed.

"Idaina boju-kyo, the Great Intercepting Mirror of Yata!"

The final form of the Yata Mirror formed slowly, but even as it was incomplete, it absorbed most of the spells handily. Harry dodged the more powerful ones that had broken through.

Of course, less and less managed to pass the sets of trigrams, which were forming one at a time until Eight were visible. Then with a magnificent silver glow, the center of the mirror formed, allowing only Harry to see beyond his shield.

It ate up all the spells fired by the Starbow effortlessly, but Harry noticed with some worry that the Black Points were collecting on the mirror - it seemed to be speckled with 'dirt' already.

_She's waiting until it's covered, she's going to be able to break-_

"Ke wa, kai!" The mirror burst into eight slices and disappeared, taking the gathered Black Points along with it into the Void.

Aoko grit her teeth. "That... was the Mirror of Yata. Who are you, James Evans? How would you have the right to summon one of the Three Great Artifacts?"

"Just an Englishman, just an Englishman. Allow me to sing something of my own, Aoko!" Harry took a deep breath. "Ten of the hands grasp the sword that falls from heaven as the flames shriek and wail, giving life to the sake! I draw the Totsuka!"

"The Sword of the Storm God? My, you're full of surprises. Unfortunately, the further surprises are probably not very good. I might have to kill you now. _Kai_."

And suddenly, all the restraints on Aoko's power over the Fifth Miracle, the Miracle of Entropy was broken. Harry watched as the Black Points became Black Lines, and began flying at him at accelerated rates.

The majority of them missed, and Aoko seemed completely confused as to why (not knowing that Harry, too, could see them). She increased the amount of them, though the speed stayed the same, and Harry dodged them, though with markedly more difficulty now. He was scared to even blink, which was a conditioned response, even if his right Eternity didn't require it anymore.

Harry's Totsuka seemed to offer as much resistance as water to bullets, if the Black Lines could be related to them, so he ended up waving the Sake-cutting sword around liberally.

Unfortunately, he was never close enough to cut her.

The duel continued for nearly fifteen minutes. Harry was astounded at Aoko's ability to forge onward, wondering exactly how much magic the girl had, but was personally happy that the Susano'o seemed to draw only on his Right Eye (without the Yata mirror in play) now.

"It's a legitimate Marble Phantasm", Flamel finally decided.

Lorelei sucked in her breath sharply, and Perenelle took a closer look.

"That. What Blue called the Storm God, it's a Marble Phantasm?" Lorelei said guardedly.

"I'm pretty sure", said Nicholas.

"Excuse me, sir, what's a Marble Phantasm?" asked a Mage who must have been raised as a witch.

"Think of magic as attempting to draw a single white marble from a jar of hundred marbles, ninety nine of which are black. Magecraft is the act of searching through each one, and finding the right marble. To utilize a Marble Phantasm, you must understand Magecraft on a different level. As the name implies, it is the ability to draw the white marble every single time without fail, without even taking a gander at the jar, and knowing that you've done so."

"I must confess to not understanding, Lord Philosopher."

"Imagine summoning a fireball to the fore. A quick Incendio, so to speak. In order to summon it, you must envision fire, and use your magic to initiate a series of commands that force us to understand what fire is, then manifest it. That's why muggles with extreme knowledge of ancient runes, where all the magic is stored in the act of creating them, whether by wizard or otherwise, can reproduce some effects. That is the magic of reality. A marble phantasm... is the belief that the fire is there already, and the Universe in the act of choosing to support that idea. It goes straight to the point, without any negotiations. Despite popular belief, there are people who are capable of that, who are not immortals about to kill all of us." He glared at Lorelei, who was clutching her Alchemically repaired Mithril claw in a way that would have twisted steel.

"This is the so-called Contract of the Sage, allowing people to feel nature energies so that the world might be manipulated to accommodate them in nature, creating the phenomenon of a Marble Phantasm. James Evans can bend a very specific piece of reality to accommodate that silver and gold monstrosity of his, as well as summoning the Eight Span Mirror and the Sake Cutting Sword through it as a Familiar would summon their Noble Phantasm-"

"What's a Noble Phantasm?"

Nicholas sighed. "A weapon associated with a hero. Excalibur and the like. They are spirits of the weapons that work in the same way as the weapons themselves. There are physical copies in the world, however. I hold Balmung, and James Evans holds the Caliburn, as we've heard several times. Aoko holds the Symphony of Orpheus. By utilizing that specific manifestation of the Marble Phantasm, he's able to manifest the Sword of Ten Hands and the Great Reflection without using any more of his magic, as well as forming a pretty nifty Absolute defense. The problem is the strain it must be putting on him. If you look carefully, there's blood dripping down the left side of his face. It's either coming from a nostril or an eye, indicating extensive damage to one of his circuits that may never recover. If that happens, he'll possibly lose the Contract of the Sage, which is generally inscribed within a magical circuit. However, this is his reality now..."

"He's made this his reality? How powerful is the Contract anyway?" the nameless mage wondered.

"All Marble Phantasms are powers so great that the greatest of mages cannot possibly comprehend", said Lorelei rather hollowly. "We can only attempt to combat them."

"We both take rather hard lines to it, on different ends. I believe that everyone should build toward the Contract, and she believes that it's nearly heretical to do so." Nicholas frowned. "However, my research has been headed in another direction..." he trailed off, obviously referring to his alchemy.

After fifteen more minutes of dueling, Aoko finally nodded to the Announcer. "I yield. I've used everything in my arsenal, except for the nuclear option, and I think that Nicky and Lorelei wouldn't appreciate that."

Harry sank to his knees, Susano'o disappearing as quickly as it appeared.

"Within an hour, the final duel will happen, between Lord Philosopher Nicholas Flamel and James Evans! A hand for Ms. Barthomeloi and Ms. Ow-zack-hi for their efforts, please!"


	31. The Eyes of the Duel: Part Four

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor any form of the Sharingan. The Nasu-verse is named such because it belongs to Nasu. I really doubt that Aoko actually belongs to him, but apparently, it's not my call.

**Mangekyo**

Harry struggled to even stand as he dragged himself over to the Healer's station. In truth, they had not seen much action, besides Albus Dumbledore's surprisingly easy to heal ribs, as most of those who lost were dead, and most of those who won weren't injured in the slightest.

"I don't understand, Aoko. Why has everyone killed their opponent?"

"Didn't you kill the Greek guy?"

"Well, he was using a Wide-Area killing curse. I just reflected it back on him", Harry grimaced.

"I am a member's of the Mage's Association, one of the I.C.W.'s partners in hosting this competition. Did you know that the only participating members in Day Block One were myself, Nicky and Lorelei? Don't you think it'd make sense if the Mage's Association, consisting of over a thousand mages just in Clock Tower, fielded more people?"

"Truly, you are the only members taking part?" Harry wondered, his mind running through the hundreds of possibilities as to why.

"Yes. Do you know why we're here?" she asked him.

"Do tell, if you're going to."

"It's to kill off the competition", she said. Harry looked up sharply. "Don't look at me like that", she snapped. "I've killed one person. Nicky's killed one person. Lorelei's killed one person. There were four casualties in this tournament, all of them very powerful mages that weren't-"

"So you were here for the express purpose of killing people like me? People not part of your association?"

"Exactly."

"So where does that leave us?" Harry wondered, his eyes narrowing.

"Uh... join us?" she deadpanned. After an awkward moment, they both laughed.

"Does Albus Dumbledore condone this?" Harry asked, his face screwed up in wonder, fearing the answer to the question.

"He participates to keep us from killing too many people, because he knows we can't or won't kill him. Did you really buy the Father Christmas veneer that Nicky puts out? He's the most brutal of us all..." she trailed off. "People don't die that often in Rome Duels, but afterwards, most of the people are approached by several of our Enforcers in the hope that they'll join the Mage's Association."

"Enforcers. I imagine you'd kill them if they didn't. Will there be an Enforcer looking for me?" Harry wondered.

"It depends on how well you do against Nicky. You're causing quite a scare, I think. I'm willing to bet almost anything that Lorelei is speaking to a lot of people right-" she stopped suddenly. "You summoned a Marble Phantasm. The Storm God, it was a Marble Phantasm. You're going to be killed, I think."

Harry ignored the unfamiliar term. "Why are you telling me this, Aoko? Aren't you part of the Association?"

She looked away. "I don't want you to die, not really. There was a moment when I thought you should have, but I decided otherwise immediately afterwards."

"What changed your mind?"

"I wanted to get you to join. Come to Clock Tower with me. You're too powerful for them to believe they could realistically hold you down with a Sealing Designation. And I think you're sort of cute, in a mysterious way", she half-asked, half-commanded.

Harry turned away. "I have very good friends back at s- back where I come from. I can't just throw everything down. My goals, my aims, they don't concide with those of the Mage's Association."

"Nicky's going to end up killing you, or worse."

"But I haven't done anything wrong."

"Everyone's done something wrong. Unfortunately, defeating a rising mage like Karahalios, and actually beating me, will end up costing your life. Please. Join. Join and forfeit the match."

"Is there anywhere else I can go for asylum?"

"There's always somewhere, but I do _not_ recommend those places. Some of them make us look rather tame."

Harry sat up. "I'll take my chances."

If he had looked back after he walked off, he would have noticed a flash of anger on Aoko's normally cheerful face, but he didn't.

**Mangekyo**

"I must admit, you have some talent", Flamel decided as Harry touched down on the sand of the Dueling Pit.

"You're going to kill me, aren't you." Harry's voice was resigned, and his eyes were narrowed. The grip on his sword was more fearful than angry, though it was only noticeable to greatest observers of human behavior. It was all too terrible that Flamel was one of those observers.

"Such a shame to let such talent go to waste. My lady wife tells me that, judging by your Sand construct, you are somewhat of a prodigy in Runes. I will extend you an invitation to my branch of the Association in Prague."

"Join the Alchemist's division of the Sea of Estray, Lord Philosopher?" Harry appeared to actually be contemplating it. Then he shook his head. "Unfortunately, I have certain ambitions that might come into conflict with the Mage's Association were I to join..."

"Very well, James Evans. Observe my eyes!" Nicholas decided. "These are the Eyes of Analysis, capable of reading the reasons behind your actions. By the end of this duel, I will know all your aims, and the extent of your power. I will know why you have turned down an invitation from the oldest living human being to continue through with your goals! We shall duel!"

And with that, Flamel sent a small barrage of curses at Harry, which the latter ducked. Harry decided to fall back on techniques that he knew to be successful, as opposed to new ideas that had cropped up during his stay with Aoko in the Healer's station.

The Saturation of Divinity rained over the entire dueling pit, bathing both him and Nicholas Flamel in the golden sparks.

"Enkidu!" he shouted, pointing his wand at Flamel. The golden chains ate up the Divinity in the air, increasing in power exponentially as they wrapped themselves around Flamel. Nicholas drew Balmung, and smashed them to bits.

"You have experience with That-Which-Chained-the-Bull, don't you? You've used it before, and you've looked long and hard for the Spell of Saturation. You pride yourself on certain accomplishments more than others. In fact, you're happier about knowing the Hungrarian Blessing than the Chains themselves, indicating to me that you value your own hard work more than anything."

Harry grit his teeth in displeasure. Flamel was surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, omniscient.

Harry drew a circle around himself in the sand with a smart pirouette and incanted a Chinese spell named the Chariot of Fire, sending a huge burst of heat towards the alchemist, who was caught flatfooted, but still managed to neutralize it with a brittle wall of ice.

"You're not much older than Aoko, if you are at all", Flamel decided. "You're a prodigy! The way you draw your circles and twist your wand are imitations of the bad habits of others, but it isn't ingrained within you. If fact, you picked up that spell several days ago during Day Block One. If you were older and more experienced, you would have corrected the particular error."

"How?" Harry finally settled for.

"I'm seven hundred, give or take fifty years", Nicholas barked without much humour. "You learn a lot about people of all ages when you're as old as I am."

Harry began to pick up his pace with fired spells, shooting a personal eight hundred and thirty three chain combination that he had managed to put together from watching nearly thirty other chains - some of the Wizards in Day Block Two, the men and women of A class, were very skilled.

Of course, he didn't actually expect it to work. Flamel countered each one with their diametric counters, illustrating that he might not have forgotten a single spell he had ever learned, like Harry. Unfortunately, if Harry was in the same situation, he wouldn't be able to use his knowledge - the Sharingan never gave him tips about what countercurse to use, even if it had seen both performed. Fortunately, if the countercurse was used against another curse, he would remember the set.

"Your motions are fast, if a little sloppy. This is the first time you've used this spell sequence, isn't it? You chained it together from memories of watching the sets of other Wizards and Mages, haven't you? You're not just a prodigy. You have perfect recall of every motion you've ever seen, with all the bad habits. Every thirty or so spells, your wand style changes, while your feet have moved in the exact same way since the beginning."

Harry nodded unconsciously, confirming Flamel's spoken thoughts, feeling hopelessly outclassed in terms of both magic and intelligence.

"You can use any spell you've ever seen!" Nicholas suddenly decided.

Lorelei leapt to her feet in the stands. "He-"

"Sit down", Aoko said quietly. "If he had access to your wind magic, he'd probably be using it, wouldn't he?"

"You are correct, Lord Philosopher. I am capable of copying any magic formed externally."

"Ahh, so you can copy this", Flamel fired a huge M-designated Blasting Curse, which Harry avoided - he knew about the effects firsthand, as it was his favorite wandless spell. "But not this!" he shouted, as he clapped his hands and a huge wall of water rushed at Harry, who had nearly tripped in avoiding the first curse.

Harry entered the Charge Step and slammed into the water wall, tearing through it.

"Impressive. You're capable of storing your magic in your muscles and skin, much like I am. I do not think you used the Pressure Push, so you must have developed such a technique on your own. Commendable!" Nicholas began firing more offensive spells now, with speeds that Harry had mild difficulty in dodging.

Finally, a spell was set to nail him on the chest, and he took it apart with his right Eye.

Flamel stopped immediately, and they both stood stock-still for several moments.

"Deconstruction. That was a refined use of the Fifth Miracle. A controlled, practiced response! The only person capable of such a thing died many, many years ago." He glanced at Harry in a new light. "I misjudged you!" He roared in laughter. "You preemptively predicted each spell before I fired them, so I utilized more powerful spells and at a faster rate, so you utilized the Fifth Miracle to snap the bonds between the power and intent, rendering the magic useless. Yet your abilities with the Fifth Miracle is far weaker than those of Aoko's."

Harry stared alarmedly. He didn't even know what the Fifth Miracle was.

"Very well. Let's play a little game with the Elements!" Flamel began chaining wide-area Elemental Spells like the water wall, and Harry was completely unable to dodge them. He settled for powering through them with his Charge Step, until a huge gout of lightning lanced towards him. He knew that he couldn't build the Charge Step fast enough to block the substantially more powerful spell.

"Mangekyo Sharingan. Kamui", he decided, appearing directly behind Flamel. He quickly cast his M-designated Blasting Curse, which he named the Particle Annihilator, but Flamel somehow _grabbed his hand_ and pointed it in a perpendicular direction, rendering the spell useless.

Nicholas engineered a heavy punch to Harry's chest with his Pressure Push, sending Harry flying. Harry decided that his torso would have caved in but for the Charge Step. Surprisingly, his personal method seemed to stand up to Flamel's Pressure push rather equally.

"Amazing! How many tricks do you have?" Nicholas wondered. "A Marble Phantasm. Miraculous Deconstruction. The Sword that Chooses. Intimate knowledge about Sumerian series that should have been invisible to you, even if you were at the Tablet. And now, the Second Miracle?"

"What are these _Miracles_ anyway?" Harry finally asked.

Nicholas howled in laughter. "You mean to tell me you have no idea what you've been doing? That's priceless. You _are_ Aoko's age or younger. The Miracles, James, are five magics that cannot be accomplished by conventional usage of magic. The first is Creation of magic. The second is Distortion of space-time. The third is Materialization of the Soul. The fourth... well, I can't give away the true nature of my power, can I?" he grinned. "The last is Destruction of magic. Tell me, how many of these are you capable of?"

"Well, I can't see souls", Harry muttered, thinking about the implications of Izanagi, the spell that sacrificed an eye for the ability to turn illusion into reality and reality into illusion, capable of fundamentally altering the world.

"I don't want to kill you much anymore, James! I want to test your limits!" Nicholas began casting spells that lanced outwards from his body in all directions, leaving no room for Harry to maneuver with the Kamui, even if he were to use it again.

"Wow, when you choose friends, you _really_ know how to choose friends", sneered Lorelei. The corners of Aoko's lips turned downwards. "At least we know he isn't one of those _things_ now", she decided. "Well, he could be an Elf, but no Elves are capable of Entropy."

"How is he capable of... my Miracle?" Aoko wondered, partially curious and partially resentful.

"He might have copied it, but that's just absurd, as he claims that he can't copy internalized magic. I am convinced that you Miracle workers have magic that function on a fundamentally different level from the rest of us", Lorelei finally answered. "He was likely born with the ability, but Nicholas thinks he has less power over it than you do."

"So it might be from some sort of baby-killing ritual, right?"

"I don't think any rituals give you control over Entropy. If they did, I'm sure there are things more evil than killing babies. Not that we really take a stance on it, eh?"

Aoko nodded.

Harry narrowly deconstructed another brace of gossamer threads - products of Flamel's magic - before utilizing a stronger form of his Kamui to swallow up the spells that headed for him.

"I see! Your control over the Kaleidoscope is far greater than your control over Entropy!" Nicholas said.

Harry froze. "What did you call the thing I had control over?"

"The Kaleidoscope, it's another name for the Second Magic, of course." Nicholas leaned forward expectantly as he watched the expressions play across the lower halves of the boy's face. "It means something to you, doesn't it, the Kaleidoscope? What would it be?"

"N-nothing." Harry abandoned his Kamui Interception and fell back on the Bunker Charm, crouching behind the Karahalios variant that superheated anything it came into contact with.

Of course, Nicholas upped the ante again, and began firing spells wrapped in little illusions that diverted attention away from them.

It was the easiest time Harry had during the entirety of his duel. His Sharingan picked up on each of the illusions.

"Hmph. That was an original technique, which leads me to believe that you're capable of seeing the differences in Magic independent of the Fifth Miracle. Aoko would have been fooled."

Harry felt rather helpless, as if he were giving away the majority of his secrets without even realizing it.

He narrowly dodged an Entrails Explosion curse that was wrapped in another illusion designed to divide his attention. He noticed that the illusions were powered by the strands that came out of Flamel's eyes. He wasn't too surprised. Both Daphne and Hermione were capable of similar feats, though they had only done so successfully on his cousin during the times they visited him between his First and Second year. He vowed to visit them if he made it out of the duel alive.

"Ahh, I understand. Your eyes! You possess a pair of Mystic Eyes so powerful that it ranks with the Samsara of Merlin, I believe. That's why you keep your face hidden", Flamel guessed. He knew he was correct when Harry stiffened slightly. "Legends tell of a family with the eyes of a Demon, capable of understanding the world differently than others, the Eye of the Wheel."

Harry stiffened even more perceptibly this time.

"I don't know anything about what it actually does", Nicholas said cheerfully.

Harry very nearly fell to his knees in relief. Then he actually fell to his knees to dodge a spell that would have removed the majority of his sternum and rib cage. It flew over his head.

"Enough! I will take the answers from you directly! Në emër të filozofit, mendjen tuaj hap. Legilimens!" It appeared that the phrase (which sounded vaguely Eastern European) increased the power of Flamel's Legiliemenic probe exponentially.

They stood unmoving as the probe attacked Harry's mental castle from all sides, and Caliburn worked madly to shield his master from the influence of the probe, and his eyes spun and spun.

It was a stalemate, even with Harry's huge advantage. He was leery about using the Tsukuyomi at that specific moment, as he wanted to save the strength of his left eye for...

Abruptly, Nicholas broke contact. "Amazing! With the combined power of your Eyes and the Sword that Chooses, you were able to restrict even my mental attack. You've had practice against powerful Mind Mages, haven't you?"

Harry nodded, choosing to agree, and realizing that his body language sort of gave him away anyway.

"Very well, you leave me no choice, James Evans. Prepare yourself!"

Flamel's hands glowed yellow, and he began firing his own dueling Flurry.

Harry had blocked twenty spells in less than a second when he realized that not using the Susano'o was a mistake, which he corrected immediately.

"Watashi no ue ni ochiru, Susano'o-dono!"

"Ah yes, your Marble Phantasm!"

Harry slipped his wand back into his pocket as he drew the Totsuka and called the Yata into existence, easily absorbing all of Flamel's spells, despite the sheer volume.

"Your Eightspan Mirror will defend you against anything that comes into contact with it, won't it? It twists the nature of even my spells that have no counter to ensure that you can't be hurt. Avada Kedavra!" The Mirror absorbed it easily. "Even the spell of Inert Death can be changed by your Phantasm fundamentally."

"I don't understand", Harry's voice echoed. "What's a Marble Phatasm?"

"You really are new to magic, aren't you? A Marble Phantasm, based on its effects, aligns the area around you to your will, and blends your will with nature. By summoning the Storm God, you are capable of calling on the Eightspan Mirror and the Ten Hands Longsword, and possibly the Arrows of Fate, to effectively defeat anything thrown at you that isn't more powerful than Nature."

"Is that what it does?" Harry wondered, intrigued.

"I cannot help but offer again. If you accept my invitation to Prague, I can teach you all of this and more. Why do you resist learning, James?"

No words were spoken for a while, as Flamel continued to cast spell after spell, observing the effectiveness of the Storm God.

Despite Harry's newfound power, Nicholas was still playing with him.

Harry grit his teeth, and finally realized that he had reached the limit of the Charge Step, after nearly ten minutes of charging.

His Charge Step had fundamentally changed over the years. Since the advent of the Susano'o and the Right Eternity, he had found that even Turbo mode couldn't keep up with the power of his right Eye. His solution was to layer Charge Steps - which were somewhat like skins, by folding it upon himself. He likened it to a blanket. Instead of a single wrap, he wrapped it around himself three times, increasing the latent speed of his turbo mode somewhat logarithmically - it didn't work quite as well as he had hoped.

But it allowed him to finally keep up with his eyes.

He blazed into Turbo mode, and Flamel's eyes widened as the alchemist instinctively parried a blow from the Totsuka with the Balmung.

"Interesting! You seem to be releasing your stored magic to force your muscles to move quicker than they could possibly be capable of." He paused, his face expressionless. "I must admit, you have become faster than me." Then he grinned. Harry began to hate Flamel's facial expressions. They never boded well for him. "But I have a Philosopher's Stone, my boy!"

Nicholas glowed yellow for a moment, and he began to match Harry's speed.

"Sadly, I seem to have developed tunnel vision, which apparently doesn't affect you, giving credence to the idea that you have a Great Eye. Fortunately, I have enough experience to compensate for it, as well as some other tricks."

Strands of magic bounced everywhere.

"Magical echolocation!" Harry suddenly realized.

"Ten points to Ravenclaw!" Nicholas smiled. "Over your head? As a boy, I went to an institution in Scotland called Hogwarts. Great school with great teachers. They'd award points when we figured something out. They were rather kind to a boy who hailed from France..." he trailed off. "Albus is actually the Headmaster there, as his full time job. You were homeschooled, weren't you? Albus barely misses anything."

Harry nodded.

Flamel was simply better than him, even with the Susano'o, the Charge-Step-Turbo-Mode, and the lack of tunnel vision. The Flames of Amaterasu were somehow countered by the Philospher's Stone when he tried it.

He wracked his brains, trying to figure out a way to win it without relying on his final trump card.

He couldn't think of anything.

He stepped back.

"Oh, are you preparing your most powerful attack now?" Flamel wondered, recognizing the resolve in Harry's stance. He had seen it many times throughout the years. He thought that the boy looked almost... noble. "Very well. I want to see it." He abruptly stopped casting.

Harry took a deep breath.

"I am the Soul of the King!" he said, bringing the Susano'o down, and the Caliburn into the charred, glassy sand in front of him. The area about him looked to be a wasteland, though it was better than the blackened pit that Flamel was standing in.

"What's he doing?" Aoko wondered.

"I don't know", Lorelei admitted.

"Misery is my curse and magic is my creed."

There was another pause, as Flamel felt a huge buildup of magic from the left side of Harry's face. He frowned. He had judged the boy's right side to be far more powerful - the Marble Phantasm relied on it, after all, and for once, contemplated that the eyes might have actually have different effects.

"I have incanted no spells to isolate my reality!"

The words rang through the silent Colloseum. Nicholas muttered about impossibilities, but still Harry continued.

"But I have always walked another path!"

Harry's foot began tracing idle patterns as he paced.

"Transcendent of Emotion and Beyond the Samsara!"

Harry stopped moving.

"Many times I have opened my eyes to injustice. Stared, stared at the blood red moon. Walked, walked the Path of Misery!"

"Oh..." Nicholas trailed off. "I change my mind about wanting to see this."

The buildup of power behind Harry's left Eye increased tenfold, rivalling the output of the Philosopher's Stone. Flamel seemed to have abandoned his promise not to interfere with the casting, but Harry finished before his more devastating spells could be focused.

"Creation and Destruction Split, then Join. I am become One. Tsukuyomi."

Darkness fell across the Colosseum as everyone was pulled into the reality of Misery.


	32. The Eyes of the Duel: Finale

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the Sharingan in any form, or any part of the Nasuverse. I do believe, however, that I'm the only person who has ever called the Susano'o a Marble Phantasm. The word Thaumolocation belongs to Nlaw, a great reviewer, friend, review-Beta (one of the two - the other being Yairm) and knows a hax amount of stylistic stuff about writing fiction.

Author's Note: My god, over eighty reviews for last chapter and counting! What did I do that everyone liked so much? :O

**Mangekyo**

_Year Eighteen Forty Eight. Journal of Nicholas Flamel._

_This is the year of Revolution, they say, for the common man. The Clock Tower, a rising institution due to the influence of the mechanizations of Jacques Barthomeloi, has put down nearly ten uprisings._

_Personally, I have begun researching in several subjects beyond the scope of the normal Magus, and am pleased to say that I've isolated three great Branches from beyond the abilities of your everyday Mage._

_The First is quite well known, a loosely associated set of powers that are 'Godly' in comparison to our 'Supernatural' Magecraft. They are the Five Miracles, the last of which I have finally discovered halfway across the world in a charming country known as Japan, whose practices in Magecraft are far different from ours. With the help of my dear friend Kischur, who has been alive as long as I have been, I have isolated the Miracles._

_The first, the Miracle of Creation, was a trait that has only manifested in Lord Emmyrs, Merlin of the Samsara. It is my belief that the power of Creation is absolutely limitless, as he was capable of creating a castle in the sky with a simple thought, and crush armies with a single wave of his hand. The phenomenon of the First Blaze, which has currently been passed to little Livius, is but a single aspect of his power - which he had gifted in the form of a Spiritual Crest to Godric Gryffindor. I shudder to think of how powerful he was if the nature of the First Blaze was only the fourth along the decreasing scale of his power. The Journals of Merlin, which have inspired me to keep my own little yearly diary of sorts, show that he identified this power with the charming tale of a Japanese deity, known to the world as Izanagi... Unfortunately, I am no closer to understanding what he meant even after a hundred years of study..._

_The second, the Miracle of Space-Time, is the trademark of Kischur, whose power is less creative and far more austere than that of Lord Merlin's. He has the ability to appear in any space in the Universe, during a set period of time, or any time in a set space. He claims that he is unable to manifest himself as a physical, or even spiritual presence in either the past or the future, however. While this makes his investigation skills ideal, I am glad for such limits to his abilities, for otherwise, he would have the ability to easily destroy the Universe. He is similarly capable of traversing parallel worlds, and gleaning knowledge from his counterparts by utilizing one of his many inventions, the Kaleidostick, a homage to the swirl of worlds and Space-Time, which could be compared to a Kaleidoscope. Fortunately, he doesn't use it often, as it had the tendency to dress him as a roman prostitute for a while, and a courtesan from the middle ages when it tickled the device's fancy..._

_The third, the Miracle of Materialization, is the legacy of the Einzbern family, which was destroyed by treachery from the Sea of Estray nearly eight hundred years ago. Since, they have spent hundreds of years rebuilding their kingdom, and ultimately, they have achieved it, as of forty years previously. I must confess to not knowing much about the Heaven's Feel, as it is named, but it appears capable of anchoring souls to the world, and keeping it from experiencing rebirth. The tomes that I had purloined from the remains of the great Blaze which killed the majority of the Family have nonsensical information on the Flow, and the phrase Banda pravāha kātanē, which roughly translates from Hindi to Cutting off the Flow. I have theorized that the flow refers to the Buddhist Samsara, but Kischur believes that it refers to the mythos of the Akasha. Both of us have a good chance of being correct._

_The fourth, the Miracle of Truth, is mine. As a practice in summarizing magic, it is the ability I have to draw upon the Truth and transmute it into our Reality. The Truth is what existed before the world began, and the Earth was given life by the Root of all things. A land that was ravaged by the five elements, and a splitting void between each piece of the warring powers. It is the most difficult to describe, as it is too terrible for words, and the very sight of the Truth will send the most experienced of men to their knees. I must admit I am still affected by it adversely._

_The final, the Miracle of Entropy, is passed along a small clan from the little island nation, the Aozaki, capable of destroying things with nary a thought. The last member to manifest it died three years ago, nearly a decade after I discovered his power, but I know for a fact that it lives on. I hadn't a chance to study its effects, but oh, I shall, even if it takes another two hundred years!_

_That is the limit of the First Branch, or should I say, the unlimited power of humanity. The second Branch is, under my World Egg theory, a Marble Phantasm. Just the other decade, during the development of the theory, I had a jar of a hundred marbles, ninety nine black and one white. The aim was to draw them out until I found the single white marble, without actually using magic, to prove a point. I suppose the power of the Marble Phantasm would be likened to this meta-magic. The Accio charm would do very nicely, and is within the rules of the Universe, meaning I would have the right to the White marble, a hundred percent of the time. A normal person would expend energy in order to find the marble, as a mage would cast a spell using his magecraft. In the case of a Marble Phantasm, one would connect with the world, by magic, so the single white marble would show itself as instinctively as the thought in one's mind._

_But of course, the limits of the Second Branch are within the nature of the Universe. If the Accio charm didn't exist, the white marble wouldn't be summoned. If one attempted to summon a blue marble, nothing would happen. Thus, we reach a new level of thought, and a further continuation of the World Egg theory which, if I do say so myself, is a fantastic brainstorm on my part._

_The Reality Marble._

_I coined the name to describe something beyond the scope of even the Marble Phantasm._

_It is the Projection of the Soul, not quite the Third Miracle, but very, very close. Capable of drawing on anywhere in Time and Space, but not quite the Second Miracle. Capable of revealing the Truth, if one should perceive it, but never truly realizing the Fourth Miracle. Capable of creating a set of rules for the Universe, but never able to hold it in place, unlike the First Miracle. And oh, the destruction accorded to such a power, yet still inferior to the Fifth._

_A Reality Marble can draw you into a world that reflects the soul of another man, woman, or Immortal. I know of only five humans who have ever achieved it, including Lord Merlin himself. Their perception of the world was so twisted that only they could create such a strange universe._

_Oh, to recreate such a power..._

**Mangekyo**

"Wh-what's going on?" was the general question asked by the majority of the people who were formerly sitting in the Colosseum.

"I've been casting for twenty six years. I don't get surprised anymore, I just adapt! That's the way I am. But this... this is impossible", decided Lorelei.

They were all standing in a valley of the blackest volcanic rock, a surface slick and slippery beyond belief. If one was perfectly still, they would be capable of standing, but any attempt to move was impeded by the general lack of friction. What didn't help matters was the fact that Aoko was sliding around as if it were a bumper cars game in a muggle amusement park, screaming at the top of her lungs.

Of course, no one was able to climb up the side of the valley. People panicked when they realized that they were incapable of their magic, and slowly stopped speaking as they stared at the scenery.

A very low crimson moon hung above them like a perfectly formed, world-destroying bit of magic that would take the majority of the mages in the audience to even dream of. Situated around the sides of the valley were crosses, made of gnarly vines stripped bare of greenery, a mockery of both the Church and faith in humanity.

"You are in the world of the Red Moon, Tsukuyomi. If you had been the only target of my power, I could control everything from your very movement to how much pain and pleasure you felt. Even as it is now, I can impose the greatest emotion I have ever felt upon you", echoed Harry's voice across the valley.

Lorelei noticed that Nicholas wasn't within the valley but, like Harry, at the crest of the basin of obsidian. The sky was a slow red haze full of a type of feeling that she wasn't very familiar with. Was it sorrow or loss?

"Sit upon the Depression of Humanity, and gaze through the Eyes of the Kaleidoscope, as I have my entire life. This... is the world of Misery. I have no control of what you see, and truly, the events of my life are open to you. But beware of what you find... for I am an Abyss, and those who gaze into my depths... would find that it is very difficult to look away."

The most asked question, it seemed, was "Who are you?"

Aoko was treated to a memory made flesh by Occlumency... to a man, a man who she knew was named James, shouting "Lily, take the baby and run! _He's_ here", and the rushing sound that only a single spell in the world had - the Killing Curse. Lily had hit James in the back of the head with a Killing Curse, her eyes morphing from spinning black tomoes to an alien set of petals.

"Divinity of the Shining Heavens, take the offering of my Magic to seal within my son the Burning Black Flames." Sumerian Runes. They were everywhere... Hundreds of them, seen and unseen. Known and unknown. Runes of Blood. The Runes lost upon the Sword of Rupture. _How did this... this housewife know them_?

The Magic left the redhead, and her eyes stopped spinning, taking on a beautiful shade of green.

"Please, n-not Harry. Take me instead! Kill _me_, but leave Harry alone!" she wailed. It was genuine, despite the trickery. She was not a woman afraid of death.

"Avada Kedavra", decided a high, cold voice.

"Now, onto-"

A huge gout of black flames sprouted out of the baby's right eye, burning the unprepared man in black robes of sorts into a crisp.

"Fourteen years I have pulled in all the Misery in the world like a Black Hole."

"He's younger than I am?" Aoko wondered aloud. "Nicky was serious?"

"Now, what's given you all this power, Harry?" Aoko said, glaring at the two figures exchanging spells on the mountaintop. Flamel had only his swordplay going for him, but Harry, while also possessing no magic, seemed capable of utilizing the Storm God, the Space-Time teleportation that he'd avoided her spells with, and the huge black flames.

She stared in horror as a huge tide of brackish blood rolled down the mountainside, submerging all of them. The blood entered her mouth, and nose, and while she was still capable of breathing for some reason, it felt as if she weighed a ton.

"This is the weight of the world", Harry's real voice, a smooth British tenor, announced solemnly.

"By the Root, he's been raped", Aoko cried out. "Once, ten times. A hundred thous- B-but how can anyone be raped s-so often?"

She felt his vagina ripped o- She gave a start. "They're not his memories, yet... they are his experiences. M-my experiences", she decided as she was taken forcibly by men whose faces blended together, and women who fucked and castrated their victims, and a poor six year old boy whose nineteen year old brother was just sick.

"O-oh", she moaned in despair as she attempted to close her mind, but found that Occlumency didn't exist but for the clarity of the terrible memories. _Was it even Occlumency_?

It continued and continued. "I can't. Go-go away", she muttered. "Away!"

Aoko was successful, the only one to be successful. She was the true owner of the Fifth Miracle, that of destruction, and instantly, a burst of Black Points formed around her, and the Blood receded from her face.

She sat submerged in the Brackish Blood for a while, having been raped nearly eighty four times, with a hollow expression on her face.

On the crest of the Valley, a Nicholas Flamel who had suddenly experienced what it was like to have no power through Harry's experiences of others stared in horror.

"This has continued on for far too long", he decided. "Few have my mental strength, and even I am faltering. I almost sympathize with your desires to take the world as your own or destroy it. Of the few that have earned it, my boy... However, I must stop you here. Lorelei and Aoko are too important to be reduced into shells, as most of the unfortunate spectators will be."

Flamel's hand opened, the Balmung returning to his belt. It was a testament to how well he could use a sword, and how much power Balmung possessed that he was able to hold off the Susano'o and the Caliburn for nearly ten minutes without any magic, while witnessing flashes of the most miserable memories that Harry possessed.

"Equivalent Exchange! Always balanced, but never fair. Call me a sinner or call me a saint, as I stand on the cusp of Truth in the moment of surrender! It matters not! The Reality of the Alchemist is not that of a Magus, but a transcendent love of how Starlight split the Void! As the Final Bearer of the Fourth Miracle, I sacrifice the memories of recent Misery... to show the world what it meant to come before!"

In that moment, there was a burst of Magic so powerful and raw that the Tsukuyomi collapsed on itself, and Harry was treated to a Revelation so jarring that even after years and years of Misery, he was not prepared for it. He stepped back in shock even as everyone from Aoko to Flamel fell to their knees, holding their eyes in pain.

And then he knew.

He was of a different mold than everyone else.

He was something far more... Original.


	33. The Eyes of Nicholas Flamel

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the Sharingan in any form, or any part of the Nasuverse. I do believe, however, that I'm the only person who has ever called the Susano'o a Marble Phantasm. The word Thaumolocation belongs to Nlaw, a great reviewer, friend, and knows a hax amount of stylistic stuff about writing fiction.

VanFanle: Your PM isn't on, so I'm replying here. Lily wasn't quite the best example of "good" in this story :P

too lazy: No they don't. Reread Nick's portion about Equivalent Exchange.

ex ninja: Seeing this through till the end. *promises* LOL.

tjg: Hmm, that might have been a slightly more accurate portrayal - but that's not what I wanted to convey... Aoko received a certain set of memories because I've implied that it's what would upset her the most about Harry's experiences. The Sinkhole effect was imagined from Nietzsche's abyss. As for far reaching effects, we'll see, eh?

Author's Note: Two Hundred Thousand hits. That's 200,000. Oh Lordy! This chapter will also break 100K words. Not the chapter itself. I write fast, but 100k words in a day is a bit too much, eh?

**Mangekyo**

When they came to, everyone was seated around the Colosseum once again, vaguely wondering what had happened.

Nicholas Flamel stood with his Balmung resting against Harry's neck.

Harry was on his knees, his head bowed, accepting defeat. His hood was on again, and a trail of blood was leaking out of his left Kaleidoscope.

"Winner, Nicholas Flamel."

With that, Nicholas grabbed Harry, made a signal towards Aoko and Lorelei, then Apparated into the Association's Rome safehouse.

Harry, who was so exhausted he couldn't move, was pushed into a rather comfortable looking chair in a rather luxurious room, which would have looked like something out of a Roman villa if not for the hundreds of magical objects and runes everywhere.

Aoko and Lorelei appeared seconds later, both of them frowning.

"What happened?" Lorelei finally settled on. "I remember... taking a look at the Fourth Miracle, and the duel up to the point in which your Thaumolocation was used, and Mr. Evans figured it out."

"T-thaumolocation?" Harry queried, his voice rasped and shaky.

"What you called Magical Echolocation," Flamel responded. "Do you two remember any of the duel afterwards?"

Aoko frowned. "He started chanting something. An ultimate attack of some sort, that began with 'I am the Soul of the King'. That's all I remember."

"That is because I erased everyone's memory of the event, utilizing Equivalent Exchange, to ensure that none of your brains were fried by the Revelation of the Fourth Miracle."

"You... tampered with our memories?" Lorelei stared, gritting her teeth ever so slightly.

"It... it's my fault", Harry said. "I shouldn't have. I know I shouldn't have. But I wasn't t-thinking. I wanted... I wanted to win so badly. I... I hurt you. I hurt you the same way I've been hurt." His eyes grew wide. "I'm sorry." His innocence was ruined by the very slowly spinning red eye.

"Your idea of conversation appears to be gibberish, Mr. Evans", glared Lorelei. "What do you mean by 'you hurt me'. I'm clearly as healthy as I have been for a while."

"He pulled everyone into his Reality Marble."

"A Reality Marble?" Aoko smirked. "Don't make me laugh. There's no way he can have _that_ much going for him. He's already got-"

"A bastardization of at least two miracles, and a latent ability in perceiving the Truth. He has a Marble Phantasm, and the ability to copy all forms of external magic. He has intimate knowledge of Sumerian Runes series that one could use to ensoul objects. But... most surprisingly..." Flamel pulled Harry's hood off, and dispersed the quicker Egyptian runes series that he had drawn personally (Harry's Nordic sequence had been removed forcibly by the Reality Marble). "He's fourteen. My guess was right."

Harry wanted to protest, wanted to keep his secrets, but he found that while he was too tired to lift a finger, let alone cast a spell. His Right Eternity spun slower than it ever did, looking almost lazy.

"His name is Harry Potter, and currently there are four people in the world who know that. They're all in this room. In the presence of one of the Primary Colors", 'Miss Blue' nodded. "One of the Wizard Marshalls." Lorelei nodded. "And myself, we can decide his fate executively."

"Decide my fate?" wheezed Harry. His left Eye felt like it was made of goo, which might not have been far from the truth.

"What do you want to do with him?" Aoko asked, sounding rather defensive.

"I don't know. What he subjected everyone to was... traumatizing to say the least. I am glad the memories are gone. People stopped struggling after seconds."

"They were weak. All of them. Only eight people resisted", remarked Harry. "I could have Obliviated afterwards too. I didn't mean to hurt them. It has a different form, but it's a very inaccurate spell, the Red Moon."

"Ah yes. Do tell me why you decided that the best thing to combat me with was a Reality Marble, Harry."

"It worked, for a while, didn't it?" he asked. His strength was slowly returning, and his right Eye began spinning quicker.

Nicholas didn't say a word for a while.

"What I'm most curious about are his eyes, actually. I would sketch them, but this isn't exactly my workshop", said Lorelei, running hands over the right side of his face as if he were an experiment of sorts. She pulled at his eyelids.

"Please don't do that", said Harry. He didn't have the strength to stop her, and even if he did, he wasn't sure he could defeat her in the ensuing magical conflict at full power, let alone after a day of three duels with people who had the capability of killing him easily if not for specific powers of his dual Kaleidoscopes.

He was surprised when she actually stopped.

"When you activated your Reality Marble, the left side of your body exuded far more power than the right side. Yet, your eyes are a rather normal, if brilliant, shade of green."

Harry frowned, then relented. He was sure Flamel would know if he were lying. "That one requires activation. The Right is powerful enough that it doesn't go away."

"What makes the Right eye so powerful?"

Harry didn't say anything.

"It is probably within your interest to tell me. We can very easily just dispose of you."

"My eyes, known roughly as the Copy Eye Kaleidoscope... allow me to use a bunch of powers. The true name is in Japanese, it is 'Mangekyo Sharingan' ", he said. His left Eye lit up, and he winced as it began to bleed. "One of it's powers is... Kamui."

And with that, Harry dove through a hole in Space-Time and landed on his cot in the cupboard under the stairs at Number Four Privet Drive.

His left Eye faded to black as he passed out yet again, realizing that there was a very good chance of him dying. It hurt everywhere.

And it hurt more.

In fact, it hurt when his blood pumped.

It hurt when his blood pumped to his destroyed left-

His left eye was destroyed.

It hurt as the remaining Basilisk venom in his blood rushed to it.

His left eye was destroyed.

His mouth opened in a silent scream.

His left eye was destroyed.

Gone were his abilities to utilize the Kamui.

His left eye was destroyed.

Gone was the safeguard of Izanagi.

His left eye was destroyed.

Gone was his ability to use the Tsukuyomi.

His left eye was burning.

He lacked the ability to truly comprehend the loss of his eye.

There was Phoenix Song.

Of course he lacked the ability to comprehend the loss of his eye. He hadn't lost it.

He blinked, and wandlessly conjured a hand mirror. On the right was his quickly spinning Eye of Eternity, a gift from Scathach.

On the left was his Mangekyo Sharingan, but something was different. It was red and black no longer, but rather, blue and gold. He suddenly felt the urge to hold himself steady, so he groped around his body for his trusty...

Caliburn was missing, but Harry wasn't worried, because he knew exactly where it had gone.

**Mangekyo**

"You let him go. You knew he'd do that when he activated his red eye", accused Lorelei.

"I did."

"Why?" she asked.

"I... believe that he can still be saved. He is a one-in-a-million... no... one-in-a-billion genius whose wrestle with the Angel has not dragged him into the depths of hell. He is a thousand Jobs made flesh, and yet... he is still whole. His mind is intact. He has a sense of what's right and wrong. While everyone asked 'Who are you', the question I asked was 'What do you find morally repulsive', and it turns out that the majority of his experiences, from the shuddering orgasms he receives from serial killers to the guilty pleasure of gambling are all immoral to him."

"Just because it's wrong to him doesn't mean he won't do it. Morality is never a good governor."

"That's why the second question I asked was whether he'd do something he found repulsive to achieve his aims. I discovered that he has no qualms about killing, or watching people die, but anything that affects innocents... His first kills were at the age of nine, to protect a girl from being gangraped. Some of his recent kills were that of a child molesting father of one of his friends, and it turns out that Karahalios wasn't exactly the nicest person in the world. He was apparently part of the Greek Ministry's torture squad."

Aoko frowned. "You let him go. He doesn't have a tracking tag, or anything that could bring us to him, or-"

"In that case, we know that he's Harry Potter, and therefore, at Hogwarts for the majority of the year."

"Are we going to go capture him?" Lorelei asked, indicating with her tone that she would not be adverse to the idea.

"No. I don't think we should. The pair are you are welcome to try - there's a damn good chance he's damaged his left eye enough so that he can't utilize the Second Miracle anymore, but I advise against it. He... will come to us when the time comes, and when he does, he will be ours."

"Ours?" Lorelei asked, her eyebrows raised. She summoned a small cup of tea from another room. "Yes, I like the sound of that. His abilities will be invaluable against our enemies... The ultimate assassin, capable of both the Second Miracle and the Fifth..."

"Yes." She paused. "I like the idea of him being mi- one of our Mages", Aoko nodded to herself, covering up her Freudian slip without a trace of shame.

"It's not often that a boy attracts the attention of the Miss Blue", Nicholas teased.

"Shut up, Nicky", Aoko said. Flamel smiled. He hadn't been able to get a rise out of Aoko for several years now.

"I suppose, then, we will bide our time. But if he endangers the Association in any way, or does anything so far removed from conventional morality that-"

"I believe in him. As does Aoko, I think."

"I don't." And with that, Lorelei disappeared, possibly back at her workshop in the Clock Tower.

Nicholas walked over to a window, staring over the Rome skyline. The sun was setting, and the red rays fell on his light brown hair, throwing his shadow across the room.


	34. The Eyes of Blue and Gold

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the Sharingan in any form, or any part of the Nasuverse, which is currently going to take a bit of a backseat.

too lazy to log in: I fail to see how Harry has become a "pussy". He's freaking powerful. But **that** was just Nicholas Flamel. He's seven hundred! He already beat Dumbledore! I can't have him as the most powerful character in the world, at least not at the moment!

tjg: You're right in expecting fallout :P I think Flamel's still underestimating Harry's other connections.

**Mangekyo**

"Hello, Daphne!"

Daphne screamed, jumping out of her seat. "Don't sneak up on me like that, Harry!"

It had been a week since the fiasco on Midsummer's Day, and Harry was, for the lack of a better word, estatic. He would be attending his first meeting at the Wizengamot - a custom for those who had turned fourteen by the second week of August.

Harry was a bit worried, because he knew that Lorelei Barthomeloi, being the House Head, would also be in attendance, but not _too_ worried. It wasn't as if they'd capture him in front of Britain's legislative body!

In Daphne's hands were long rolls of parchment with runes inscribed around the edges.

"Are those your House Chants, Daphne?" Harry asked, attempting to peek over her shoulder.

"_No_, Harry. You're not allowed to read them until you marry me!" she teased.

Harry froze. He hadn't given much thought to marriage.

"I... I need help, Daphne."

"Is this for the First Session?" she sighed.

"Yes. But first, why is there so much magic within your House Chants?"

"Umm, I think it's because the runes over them generate a lot of protection. I'm pretty sure they'll burn you if you touch them."

"No. There's something far more powerful in there. In fact. I'm pretty sure that the scrolls are possessed or something."

"P-possessed?" she screeched, thinking of Quirrell and Voldemort. She had jumped back, pushing the Chants towards the far end of her desk.

"No, it's not malignant. It's not a demon or something, or even truly sentient. I think it's a bundle of magic, or something of that sort. In fact, it feels sort of like some of the circuits on..."

"Circuits?" Daphne wondered out loud.

"Yes. I ran into... some people... and they told me about magical circuits."

Daphne wasn't shying away from the Chants any more. She had instead spun sharply to glare at him, her blond hair whipping around and her eyes taking on the quality of ice. "I _despise_ my late father, but he did teach me several things. One of the lessons he hammered in, one way or another", her smile grew more bitter, "was that I should never associate with people who claim to practice Magecraft, and refer to Circuits instead of Cores. Where _were _you. _Who_ did you meet?"

"Nicholas Flamel. And... Lorelei Barthomeloi." Harry decided to leave out Aoko. He wasn't sure what Daphne would do if she found out about the girl who Harry had nearly asked to dinner.

"_When_ did they tell you?"

"When I was watching a little duel."

"And just where were you watching this _little_ duel?"

"...Rome?" he ventured tentatively, hoping she wouldn't realize exactly what he had been doing for two weeks.

"You went to Rome Duels, didn't you?"

_Ah crap_, his mind huffed resignedly. "Yes."

"You competed in Rome Duels, didn't you?"

"No."

"Then who the _fuck_ is James Evans?" she screamed, a copy of the Daily Prophet flying at him. She grabbed it - seemingly out of the air - and began reading. "_During a duel with Dionysus Karahalios of Greece, he managed to utilize a spell that appeared to be an exact replica of the secret, guarded, absolutely-impossible-to-replicate 'Pain of Sand'! _Let's see, Harry Potter, son of _James_ Potter, and Lily _Evans_... _He finally reversed the killing blow with something this reporter heard the Alchemist Nicholas Flamel refer to as Space-Time Manipulation._ Sounds like someone we know, doesn't it, Harry?" She burst into tears. "I didn't want to think. I didn't want you to be James Evans. But I knew. And you dueled Dumbledore! Are you out of your bloody fucking mind? Oh. And apparently, the Aurors released a statement that they believed James Evans killed Auror John Dawlish with the Caliburn!" She suddenly looked around him. "Where _is_ your sword anyway?"

"It's gone. Observe. Mangekyo Sharingan."

The alien red and black petals she expected were now a beautiful shade of blue and gold.

"What have you done?" she wondered, half in horror and half in appreciation.

"Somehow, it reacted with the Basilisk venom and the White Phoenix tears, and it was absorbed. Tsukuyomi doesn't damage my eyes anymore, and the strain of Kamui... Well, it was never really a strain to begin with, but it's quite easy to perform now, no more difficult than a blasting curse in terms of magical exertion."

"So, how badly did you piss off the most powerful Sorcerer in the world, Harry?"

"Nicholas? He wants me as his student."

"Okay. Let's rephrase this. What did you do to him?"

"I may have stupidly pulled him into the wide-area edition of the Tsukuyomi, and he called it a Reality Marble, which I still don't know the meaning of. So he kidnapped me, and then I got away, and my eye sort of... exploded, and then my left Kaleidoscope caught fire when I landed in Privet Drive."

"You... destroyed your left eye? Without even using your Izanagi?"

"Yes, that was sort of what I was thinking when that happened."

"Oh Harry", she said, walking up to him and resting her elbows on his shoulders. Without warning, she began to kiss him. The entirety of his existence felt centered around the softness of her lips and the way her tongue darted-

She stopped abruptly. "Do you like it? I've been practicing with Astoria!"

"Wh-what?" Harry screeched. "That's your sister!"

"Yeah, it's not like I actually want to practice... more than that..."

"To be honest, it was fantastic until you mentioned that last bit."

"Bugger."

**Mangekyo**

"I'm not sure if I agree with Gamp on that."

"Me neither. I think it's the fallacy of the predeter- Harry!" Hermione smiled widely.

"Hello Hermione", Harry smiled, embracing her.

"Daphne owled me", she said seriously.

Harry looked away, with no small amount of shame. Both Hermione and Daphne would have been seriously traumatized if he had died.

"What were you thinking?" she asked softly. "Why didn't you just watch? It's not like you had to be fighting to pick up new stuff. You would have seen the sand spell anyway. You nearly destroyed your eye for this."

Harry nodded.

"I'm not going to be the one that you have to watch out for. Professor Snape and Sirius Black have shown up twice this week, wondering if I knew where you were, clutching..." She pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet, one that had 'The Search for James Evans' printed across the top, and speculation about whether he was a Dark wizard or the next Leader of the Light, through an obscure (and definitely fiction) ritual during the duel with Dumbledore.

Harry blanched.

**Mangekyo**

"We now call the First Session of the year Nineteen Ninety Four into existence, as per the Accords at Bath, joining the Most Revered and the Most Noble. May the Heads please stand?" Minister Fudge spoke pompously.

"House Ackerly!"

"Sitting", said a very old woman who seemed to be blind, who sank onto her bench.

"House Aesalon!"

"Sitting." A beefy man dropped into his seat, wiping sweat off of his brow.

"House Baddock!"

"House Basil!"

"House Dumbledore!"

"The Chief Warlock sits", said Dumbledore. Fudge nodded dismissively.

"House Emyrs!"

Everyone stood with their head bowed, and began chanting. "We honor the Lord Merlin by holding his vote always as undecided, and his seat always filled." Those who had sat did so once more.

"House Finnegan!" Harry watched as the mother of one his Yearmates sat, and realized that some of these, like House Greengrass, were matriarchal.

"House Greengrass!"

"Daphne Greengrass of Greengrass, upon her Fourteenth Year, ascends to the Seat in the place of her late father." She gave a small smile to Harry, who returned it.

"Are there objections to the seating of Greengrass of Greengrass?"

There was silence.

"Speak now, or forever hold your peace."

There was silence.

"House Longbottom!"

"Neville Longbottom of Longbottom, upon his Fourteenth Year, a-ascends to the Seat in the place of his dowager Grandmother." Neville's voice was smaller and less confident than that of Daphne's but there was steel in it. His grandmother stood behind him, to the right.

"House Lovegood!"

"Sitting", decided Xenophilius, the editor of the Quibbler, after several moments of contemplation. He stayed standing, however.

"Would Lord Lovegood of House Lovegood please seat himself", asked Fudge.

"You have to try harder than that!" Xeno said.

"Motion to continue the Seating?" came the stern, no-nonsense voice of Amelia Bones. There was a roar of 'Aye' from everyone seated and not.

"House..." Harry watched as house after house was called to sit, waiting for the end of the Druidic and Roman Blocs to sit.

"Claims of the Lost will now be heard!" said Fudge.

"Sirius Black of Black, upon his exoneration, sits with the Right of High Horses."

"Sit, Sirius Black. Expound upon the Right of High Horses", Cornelius Fudge grudgingly accepted, following procedure to the word. A bookish man whispered in his ear, and he turned red. "I move to strike my demand of explanation regarding the Right of High Horses."

"Approved", rang the Wizengamot, some of them snickering.

"Claims of the Lost continue to be heard!" shouted Fudge, attempting to regain control of the situation by speaking louder.

"Harry Potter of Potter, upon his Fourteenth Year, ascends to the Seat in place of his deceased father."

"Objection!" thundered Dumbledore.

"State your Objection, Chief Warlock", said the Minister.

"Harry is too young, and not well versed in politics or wizarding law. He deserves to spend his time exploring the wonders of magic at Hogwarts, making the most of his innocence."

There was a highly irregular snort from the head of House Barthomeloi of the Norman Houses.

"Denied, with all due respect, Lord Headmaster", Harry smoothly interjected before the noise in the room rose to unbearable levels. "The Sixth Promise states that the Right of the Final Scion is to ascend to his seat with no objection. Corollary Fourteen B can only be put into effect if the House Will has been executed, Lord Dumbledore. Unfortunately, this august body has sealed the Potter Will, and therefore, as Potter of Potter, the seat is my right."

"The Promise precludes, Chief Warlock. I'm dreadfully disappointed", Fudge smirked.

"Claims to the Lost continue to be heard!"

After several moments, Fudge nodded to himself. "If no more Claims are heard, hold your peace for another year."

When nearly a minute of silence passed, he began again. "Houses Norman and Houses Imperium, will your Heads please stand to be Seated?"

"House..."

**Mangekyo**

"That was the most pointless waste of thirteen hours-" Harry began.

"What would you have been doing instead?" Daphne asked. "Wait, don't answer that. By the way, Lorelei Barthomeloi was glaring at you the whole time."

"About that..."

"Is there more you want to tell me, Harry?"

"No, nothing important", Harry said, with a winning smile that didn't fool Daphne at all.

"So, the Quidditch World Cup's happening in maybe ten hours. We should pick up Hermione, shouldn't we? I don't really want to camp, but it's tradition for tens of thousands of people to-"

"Harry James Potter!" a very loud, but sufficiently manly voice rang.

"What can I do for you, Lord Black?"

"Don't Lord Black me, I'm your godfather. _We_ are going to have a talk. And then, we will have one away from present comp-"

"Daphne Greengrass is my very best friend, Sirius", said Harry, his eyes narrowing. "She knows _all_ of my secrets, which is more than I can say of you."

Sirius blinked at the sheer coldness of the statement, and then disregarded it. "Anyhow, I have tickets for-"

"Daphne's gotten me and Hermione tickets. I'll see you there, Lord Black."

Harry and Daphne disappeared in a Kamui.

"Trouble, Lord Black?" came a demure alto.

"No, no, none at all!" Sirius smiled jovially and turned around. In front of him was the brunette Barthomeloi Clan head, known for her ability to duel on par with Albus Dumbledore, the Vice-Director of the Mage's Association. Sirius gulped, abandoning his plans to turn on the charm, despite her beautifully aristocratic face, and very complimentary body.

"Young Harry Potter. He's really something, isn't he?"

"Yeah. Bright kid. My godson, actually."

Lorelei smiled, and she too disappeared, displaying skills in Apparition that were quite uncommon, making not a sound.

Sirius stood at the Apparition point for several minutes before vanishing with a crack.

**Mangekyo**

Harry didn't enjoy Quidditch much, but he enjoyed time with Daphne and Hermione. None of them did, really, but the sport had an undeniable way of bringing camaraderie out in wizards and witches.

Well, until a horde of Veela rushed out into the stadium, in Bulgarian national colors.

Harry watched bemusedly as they literally charmed the crowd (himself excluded by an ample amount of Strand snapping). Ronald Weasley jumped out of his seat even as the much more powerful Arthur Weasley restrained him.

The game soon began (after several leprechauns responded by throwing obviously fake gold everywhere), and the Ministry Box dissolved into political chatter and veiled barbs.

"Why hello, Ronald Weasley, Lord Weasley. Why were you absent during the meeting?"

Mr. Weasley's face turned red and he looked away.

Daphne poked Harry in the ribs. "That's not nice!", she whispered fiercely. "Everyone knows about the Weasley misfortune. You're not supposed to bring that up. You're acting like Malfoy!"

"Oh... I wasn't aware." Harry turned back to Mr. Weasley. "I apologize for my impertinence, Lord Weasley."

"No harm done, Lord Potter", he responded vaguely. Harry could tell that the man was insulted, however, despite his assurances otherwise. Ronald Weasley glared at him.

"I apologize on behalf of the young Lord. Some of us may not have much control over our... impulses yet", Lucius Malfoy broke in.

"Yes, in this day and age, it might be difficult. In fact, that's what makes curses like the Imperius so hard to resist, Lord Malfoy", Daphne responded for both Harry and Arthur Weasley. Lucius Malfoy's cheeks turned a pale pink, and he glared for a moment, then turned back to the Quidditch game.

"Please get your hands off of my thigh", Harry said very suddenly. Everyone's eyes flew to the House Elf crouched behind him.

The House Elf began to sob.

"I understand that the man in the Invisibility Cloak really wants you to have my wand, but I really don't want you to have it, and it's sort of my wand."

Of course, said man in the Invisibility Cloak simply grabbed the wand of the man next to him, punching the other in the face, and disapparated with an instant _crack_, and the House Elf ripped her (Harry could tell by Legilimenic imprinting) way through Space-Time, and Harry watched, feeling quite detached from the situation.

"You know, you should really keep your wand in a holster, and not your back pocket", Harry said, patting the one strapped to his leg. The man looked unnaturally distraught, even for a man who'd just lost his wand, but Harry supposed that he would be annoyed if he had lost a sword that had served him well for years. He unconsciously rubbed his left eye, when the Caliburn was ensconced.

Of course, the game ended soon, with an Irish victory by ten points, while the Bulgarian seeker (Ron excitedly spoke about how he was seventeen) caught the snitch, and closing the gap by a fair amount. Harry watched as people partied in their tents drunk, wondering exactly why he was feeling so light and free when he realized that-

No, it couldn't be true.

He nearly started jumping.

His Phoenix-touched, Caliburn-melded, venom-enhanced Kaleidoscope of Blue and Gold... was perceiving all of the happiness, the joy, the emotions that Harry rarely ever felt around him, even as his Right Eternity perceived all of the Misery.

It was clear that his Eternal eye was stronger, but his newly christened Royal Kaleidoscope put up a decent fight.

"Why are you skipping, Harry?" Daphne wondered, bemused.

"Because I'm happy."


	35. The Eyes of House Greengrass

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the Sharingan in any form, or any part of the Nasuverse, which is currently going to take a bit of a backseat.

Author's Note: Heh. A vote. I generally don't like doing this but... this is important. Should I write a spinoff from several chapters ago involving the universe of Tsukihime deeper? Back when Harry was captured, I mean - sort of like a point-of-divergence thing that asks "What if they didn't let Harry go?" If the votes are positive, I have a general story framework going on for that...

**Mangekyo**

"Cocaine and Lady Luck?" Harry's angelic Royal Kaleidoscope complimented the demonic Right Eternity as he stood at the maw of a gambling den.

"What's it to you, boy?" growled a dealer (in more than one way). He was handing out cards and selling at the same time. He was also very scared of Harry - his experiences with humanity from even the days before the original Kaleidoscope could have told him that. After all, Harry had a _sword_ out.

"I have nothing against Lady Luck, and not much against Cocaine, as there's precious little you can do for those who _really_ want it. But what I don't like is..." Harry pointed a door, and it clicked open, revealing very young boys and girls, between ages six and nine, chained to small beds. Harry pointed at another, and a similar set up featuring boys and girls not much younger than himself was shown.

The conditions were miserable. Blood and semen leaked out of orifices, and haunted looks were seen in every face.

Harry was not a genius in Alchemy like Nicholas Flamel, who had devised the Philosopher's Stone as the receptacle for his Miracle and his Soul at age thirty two. But when he saw fantastic alchemy at work, he was capable of duplicating it, despite his fundamental lack of understanding.

"Equivalent exchange! As a student of replacement, I take your memories in the name of the Kaleidoscope and transplant them with the collective Misery of those you have harmed!"

Harry was regretful of the fact that he couldn't do a mass obliviation of the enslaved children as Flamel would have been capable of, but he did manage to work through them one at a time, erasing, in some cases, years of Misery, but never their memories.

"I will not have you forget", he said sternly, to a thirteen year old girl who had begged for him to remove her life and place her in an orphanage somewhere. "The world is not a good place, and I am here to rectify the wrongs, not to help you pretend that these wrongs never existed."

And with his final mental incision that cut away the last of the Misery but none of the memories, he walked out of the door. "I wouldn't be disappointed if you killed them", Harry said offhandedly. "They're better off dead."

On the evening news, there was a story of the police discovering eight bodies of men between thirty five and forty eight, two of which could be identified, in a gambling den, killed with nearly a hundred cuts and bruises on each body.

**Mangekyo**

"I want to do something fun today", Harry spoke suddenly. He and Hermione were in the room of the latter, and they were studying Native American Rune series. Hermione had sketched hundreds of totem poles, and Harry had actually written nearly fifty pages on the similarities to the Indonesian arrays. Of course, he found the only way to express it in words was to use a strange combination of Hanzi and Sanskrit, switching between Chinese and Hindi in such a way that would make even bilingual native speaker's heads spin.

"Something _fun_?" Hermione stared. "Are you _sick_? Do you need to go to St. Mungos?" She was actually worried for his mental health.

"No", Harry snapped. "Forget it."

Another hour passed, and throughout the time, Hermione drew furiously, and Harry scribbled to his heart's content.

"How many treatises have you penned, dear?"

"Four hundred and eighty six, more than four hundred of them on runes."

"Average page count, Harry?"

"Ninety two."

"You're right. We should do something fun. How about we go to a nearby park, and pretend we aren't actually magical, or something!"

Harry smiled and wrapped his arms around her from behind, ruining her eight hundred and thirty fourth drawing - the product of nearly two minutes of work. They had been working since five in the morning, and it was nearly three in the afternoon. Neither had eaten anything. If Daphne had been present, she would have forced them to leave the house and gain sustenance, but she was in America for the weekend.

Hermione dropped the pair of pencils, and they spilled onto her desk haphazardly. She then followed Harry out of her room and through the front door.

They walked in silence for several minutes before they came upon a small park with stands that sold various snacks and things, which Harry bought with pound notes that he conjured while reaching into his pockets.

They sat at a bench, watching children play, and smiling. Harry didn't eat much.

"It's impolite to stare, you know", he said.

There were several giggles from behind them, and Hermione turned around, about to draw her wand out of reflex, from the hundreds of duels that she had participated in with Harry and Daphne.

A gaggle of girls dressed rather scandalously (for a park full of children playing) and a bunch of boys comparing their muscles every other second walked up to them. There were eight or nine all told.

Harry was no stranger to dealing with a group of teenagers who thought they were tough shit, but he really didn't want to make a mess around Hermione, so he didn't insult them about drug use, or one boy's failing liver.

"Excuse, but... are you Hermione Granger?" one of the girls asked. _Rather rude_, Harry noted. The remnants of Caliburn told him that she enjoyed hitting people, and that her greatest misery, apparently, was when her grandmother passed away. As Harry examined her, he was drawn into the strange dichotomy of orgasmic release from rough sex and the tragedy of a passing loved one. He felt sort of dazed, though he would never have shown such an emotion on his face.

Harry quickly cycled through the lives of the people surrounding them, and their intentions. They were here to laugh at Hermione. His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Y-yes", Hermione said, her face reddening slightly.

Harry's mind was on an interesting book about sharks he had read when he was ten. _Upon the sight and smell of blood, the hammerhead shark will be driven into an attacking frenzy_.

"_My_ god! It is Hermione Granger. You've gotten so pretty! And you even have a boyfriend. Remember how she was in fifth grade? With the buckteeth?"

Harry remembered that her teeth had been shrunk a while ago, when Daphne thought it was a good idea to use a shrinking charm on a huge metal pole Hermione had conjured, but had missed. Of course, Harry caught it before the pole actually skewered Daphne.

Hermione shrank into herself, and Harry blinked twice. "Now that isn't very nice is it?" Harry asked, rather forcefully.

The girl shrugged unrepentantly, mostly ignoring him.

"How'd Hermione Granger land him?" another girl asked. There was a chorus of agreement, and a bunch of winks directed at him, as well as one or two people miming blowjobs.

"Do you want to leave, Hermione?" Harry asked, ignoring the others.

"Yeah", she said quietly.

Harry stood up, helping her to her feet.

"Oh, are you leaving? Too much of a coward to stick around?" challenged a particularly unintelligent boy who reminded Harry of Vincent Crabbe and Dudley mixed into one. He looked a bit more handsome than either Dudley or Malfoy's cronies, however.

"Cowardice?" Harry asked, feeling amused. "I'd say ganging up on a girl you haven't seen in four years is pretty cowardly, but, to each his own."

The fist that flew at him couldn't have been slower if it had taken a whole minute. Harry had fought with Nicholas Flamel. A bunch of fourteen year olds... were nothing to him.

Of course, Harry had no desire to actually damage them, so he just slipped a bit of magic into his Charge Step, and the boy might as well have tried to hit a four foot thick concrete wall. There was the sound of bones breaking.

"Come on, Harry." They left together.

**Mangekyo**

Daphne stared at the rolls of parchment in frustration. "It's like they weren't meant to be understood. They're so powerful, and I could literally feel the call of nature, but I feel as if I were missing something."

"I'm telling you, there's something _in_ there. It could be anything from a demon to a high elf..." Harry trailed off. "Rip it open."

"What?"

"Rip it. Rip it! There's a Nordic series that combine to read Rip in sanskrit."

"Are you insane!" she screeched. "These are the Greengrass House Chants! I can't just-"

"In the name of Merlin, rip it! You've memorized them! It doesn't matter if they're your House Chants, you can write them down again! So rip the damn parchment!"

"Are you okay?" Daphne wondered why Harry was showing so much emotion. In all honesty, the Harry she was used to would have torn it himself, or said it softly and plainly, if insistently.

"Yeah, it's just..." Harry sighed. "The Royal Eye works somewhat the same way my Right Eternity does. Whether I want it to or not, I can perceive all the joy that a person's ever experienced. It's being counteracted by the generated Misery, which is still more powerful, but after years of blocking my Eyes off, this is... I have to struggle not to roll around on the ground as if I were some sort of substance abuser. Now can you rip the Chants."

"Okay." Daphne ripped the Chants in half.

"Well, that was pointless."

"Yeah."

"Sorry I told you to- Hey, that's glowing a bit", Harry frowned, pointing at what looked like gold dust under his right Eye, and was green in light of the royal blue haze of his left. It was a muddy brown when he stared through both eyes.

He ran his hands through it, and jumped back when they blistered and charred. "I don't think I can touch it, but I'm sure you can."

Daphne placed her hand on it, and-

"Amazing." she whispered. "It's as if I've found a part of my magic I've never had before."

"Yes, that would appear to be what it is. I'm under the impression that your entire family is a victim of a Bloodline Block curse, tied rhizomatically to the Key you just absorbed."

"What's a rhizomatic tie?" Daphne stared, not understanding Harry in the least.

"Okay, let's talk about enchantments. Generally, an enchantment is tied to a certain object, and has a target. Usually, the target and the object are the same. By having a stabilizing object, the target would then gain the characteristics the spell imparts. Such an example is the Sorting Hat, which uses Hogwarts as the Object, allowing the enchantment to stay for thousands of years."

Harry paused. "The Pain of Sand, which I used to create the Sand Demon, was a very large enchantment, in which I tied the spell to the grains of sand that weren't enchanted. By using the rune slips, I didn't give it sentience, but rather, I encouraged the spell to become sentient. The biggest part of Rhizomatic spells is their ability to evolve. That's sort of how the Hat got a personality, and how my Sand Demon became a demon."

"Of course, the magic that you just touched... broke the enchantment. I believe you will have unfettered access to your magic now."

"For a moment, I thought we found the Greengrass crest", Daphne muttered bitterly.

"Well, you don't even know what your Bloodline does until you chant a bit."

"Fair enough. In the war-torn pastures of the world, I pushed aside small bushes and shrubbery in search of green grass. I met a blade of grass that told me about its predicament. That no one would realize it was green. I laughed at it. It was yellowed, decayed and molding. It looked to be barely alive." Daphne's hands began an elaborate dance, as usual, settling on a prayerful clasp.

There was a rumbling as Greengrass manor shook, and sweat ran down Daphne's brow.

"Don't push it if you can't handle it!" Harry shouted, his left eye flashing blue and gold in alarm.

"I can! I can!" Daphne let out more magic, and a huge tree branch, complete with leaves and small, otherworldly purple fruits, burst into her second floor bedroom. Daphne collapsed onto her bed and began to snore softly.

Harry picked a fruit off of the tree and gave it an experimental nibble. "Magic replenishing!" he exclaimed in wonder. "Do you think Snape would be less or more inclined to yell at me if I gifted several of these to him?" Harry asked a sleeping Daphne. "Less? Okay! Kamui." Several fruits and a quickly penned note were sent to Snape's office.

**Mangekyo**

Harry enjoyed their time on the Hogwarts Express very much. It was peaceful, and people knew by then not to bother them. Of course, the locking charm on the compartment door helped.

Harry fiddled with the magically expanded folder full of his summer treatises that were to be published. (He naturally kept the better work for himself.) "So, my portfolio for Rune Magazine will consist of in-depth analysis on Preservation Runes across the world and years, as well as this eight hundred page giant about Aborigine Australian Mind and Blood series."

"I'm still not done with my Native American totem pole drawings", Hermione said, looking ready to cry. "I still have around eighty or so, and they're so boring."

"Hermione Granger? Bored with work? The world's ending!" Daphne smirked. "My work, as you remember, was on the deconstruction of Gamp's Elemental Transfiguration laws, of which only one actually makes sense. It's pretty heavy on Alchemy, but Transfiguration Today's already pledged to accept twenty five pages after reading my synopsis."

"So _that's_ what you went to America for", grumbled Hermione. "Professor Dumbledore's published in Transfiguration Today..."

"What's so great about Alchemy anyway?" Harry said quietly, frowning.

"You're just unhappy about your defeat at the hands of Nicholas Flamel", Daphne said.

"Shush. There might be tracking charms around here." Harry scanned the compartment, and was pleased to know that his Arabian privacy wards held easily. "How's your bloodline experiment going?"

"It's great. Everything works, except for two of the chants, but I think certain conditions have to be met for those to happen. Apparently, if I twist my hands into the shape of certain runes, it makes it easier, but I can cast wandlessly and wordlessly."

"What are our objectives for this year?" Hermione wondered.

"Having memorized every rune in the world, and ninety eight percent of the series, I'm going to be crafting around a thousand new series, hopefully. Dueling is obvious, and swordplay even more so. I need to know the limits of my Royal eye, and I need to convince Scathach to track down Excalibur for me." He shuddered. "As usual, my long term goals will be to steal the Hallowed spells from the Church as my mother did, or at least from Albus Dumbledore. I believe the only way to surpass Flamel will be to learn literally everything I come across, and to work on the Kamui and my Strand Deconstruction."

"I want to perfect my bloodline. It's just a year, but if Harry can do all of that, I can do this. How about you, Hermione?"

"I want to learn how to duel... creatively. I want to invent something that no one's ever seen before and, no offense to Harry, something that can't be copied. Your description of Lady Barthomeloi's wind spell... I've looked up House Barthomeloi. They led the Wizengamot for two hundred years by simply being better Mages. They don't have a bloodline ability, just generations of hard work..."

Harry nodded solemnly. It was quite a commendable aim.

"We should change", Daphne said, and she began removing her robe.

Harry blushed, but didn't look away.

**Mangekyo**

Daphne Greengrass always sat at the Gryffindor table. It was a fact of life, and she was about as welcome as any Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw that sat down, since she was 'Harry Potter's friend'. She didn't socialize with the Gryffindors often, but today, there was an instant silence from the Slytherin table when she sat on Harry's right.

"From House Malfoy to House Greengrass, you are under the obligation to sit with your Hogwarts House", Draco said, breaking the silence that fell across the hall.

"From the Most Noble and Revered _Druidic_ House of Greengrass to the _Norman_ House of Malfoy, as Lady Greengrass, I shall do as I please. Know your station!"

Malfoy sputtered.

"Settle down, settle down!" rang the voice of Albus Dumbledore over the snickers and gasps. "We should set a good example for the First Years!"

Harry looked over the staff table. "The Defense teacher's conspicuously absent. Do you think he or she has been incapacitated already?" He narrowed his eyes. "I still think Lupin should have stayed."

The Sorting began, but Harry didn't pay any attention to it, choosing instead to pen runes on a small piece of parchment while doing angular calculations. The Crimson Ruby hanging at his waist clinked several times and his right eye was obscured by his hair and a rune array.

It had started to rain several hours earlier, and the amount of thunder was becoming ridiculous. Harry and Flitwick sent wide-area silencing charms at the windows at the same time, and they shared smiles.

The Sorting finished, and the food had just appeared on the table when the door of the Great Hall gave an ominous boom and flew open.

"Wow", Daphne stared. "I really don't think he'd have lost that much of himself if he actually knew how to duel."

The man was missing a leg - as he walked, he gave huge thunks. There were scars all over his face, and his nose had missing a large chunk. Worst of all, instead of an eye, there was a spinning glass object that whizzed and stared at everyone. Harry realized that there was a slight shimmer of magic surrounding him, and wondered what it was, but his train of thought was interrupted by Dumbledore's introduction of the man as his good friend Alastor Moody, a Master Auror. Harry noted that the man was a low-end mage.

Dumbledore continued his speech from before, telling everyone that the Quidditch season wouldn't be occurring, and declaring that a "Triwizard Tournament" would be held for those over seventeen years of age. Harry couldn't care less. His year was mapped out already. In fact, he decided that he would be strictly isolationist this year.

Too bad his yearly plans were nearly always ruined by this or that.

**Mangekyo**

I apologize for the mildly cliched Hermione's-old-bullies scene. At least I didn't have Harry reject the advances of her slutty friends for her, or have him use magic on anyone.

Please vote! If you don't have a scooby of what the vote's about, it's whether or not I should create a spinoff story about what would have been if Flamel didn't let Harry go.


	36. The Eyes of A Sleeping Beauty

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the Sharingan in any form, or any part of the Nasuverse, which is currently going to take a bit of a backseat.

Warning: There's a bit of Hermione/Daphne in this chapter. You have been warned.

**Mangekyo**

Four days after everyone settled into their dorms (and after Harry reclaimed his previously abandoned third floor classroom full of Transfigured sofas and desks), the Gryffindors and Slytherins had their first Defense class with Moody.

Harry appeared in the room shortly after breakfast, with Hermione and Daphne. They sat in silence as everyone filed in, and the time in which class should have begun passed.

Suddenly, the room was plunged into darkness.

"Savoir comment les choses sont en forme", Hermione whispered, tapping the bridge of her nose as well as Daphne's. She knew Harry would have no problem seeing in the dark. The spell (a French work by a wizard in the seventeenth century) was nothing like normal night vision spells. Instead, it relied on hearing and smell to give wizards an image of how things were shaped.

"There", Daphne said. In truth, her voice was terrible - it was filled with a type of power that no fourteen year old witch could have possibly had. She had learned to layer her voice with magic from Harry. "Sit and contemplate nature", she muttered, clasping her hands together.

A huge root grew out of the stone and surrounded what could only be their defense teacher, snapping his arms back painfully, and squeezing the man's wand hand hard enough to force him to drop it.

"Aren't you a mage, Professor Moody?" Harry wondered out loud, his Rising Sun charm blowing through the False Darkness curse.

"Aye!" said the man trapped in the roots.

"Well, I guess you can show us how to get out of that then, right?"

Moody grit his teeth.

Harry was instantly suspicious. In the Moscow Dueling Tournament of Nineteen Forty Eight, Moody had demonstrated intense ability to escape traps even after springing some of the most elaborate setups. Either Daphne's House Chants were beyond powerful, or the man was simply not cut out to duel anymore.

"Release me, Potter", he finally said, after several minutes of struggling and several giggles.

"I didn't even cast that! You didn't even see who cast that?" Harry wondered, his eyes wide. Wasn't Moody's eye all seeing?

"Whoever cast that, release me!" he shouted.

Daphne frowned and undid the Chant. Moody sprang off of the floor and drank deeply from his flask, which was, without a doubt, full of health potion. It had the same glitter that some of the potions in Snape's class had.

"Think you're so good, eh?" Moody spat. "That would be nothing to a true Dark wizard! A real Dark wizard would come in firing curses that could kill you if they touched you!"

"If they touch you at all", muttered Harry.

"What was that, Potter?"

"I said 'If they touch you at all'", Harry replied, his expression tantamount to challenging.

"Think you can dodge a spell you can't see coming, Potter?" Moody asked, his voice dangerous.

"Yes, actually. I bet I can dodge any spell cast at me, as long as it's not wide-area. Didn't you write a piece for Defense Journal about dodging?" Harry suddenly asked.

"Yes, yes, of course I did."

"Didn't do you much good, did it?" Harry mocked, unable to stop himself for some reason. The emotional changes from his Royal eye left him out of control.

"No, I daresay it didn't", Moody said, smiling rather dangerously.

"Well, I'm glad I'm not you then", Harry continued. At this point, even Daphne and Hermione were staring at him strangely.

"Do you think you're better than me, Potter?" Moody asked dangerously.

"Well, I haven't had my nose knocked off with a curse, or my leg severed. I don't have to drink a potion ever several minutes to make sure I don't die, or something", Harry smirked, feeling his impeccable politeness disappear, possibly forever.

"Dodge this then, Potter! Stupefy!" Moody shouted, looking rather insulted.

Harry moved his head and it splashed against a block of stone that Hermione hastily conjured.

Moody stared at him strangely. "You want to learn defense, boy? Well, come up here. Let me show you how to duel!" he roared.

Harry nearly laughed, but he wasn't imbalanced enough to talk about experience... yet. He walked up to the front of the classroom, where Moody fired another, wordless, Stunner at him. Harry twisted ever so slightly and it missed him by inches.

Moody began firing various darker spells at him, most of them slow and easy to dodge. Harry contorted this way and that, never moving his feet, as all the spells missed him and the area around him charred.

"Boring. Pado wie beongae", Harry said in Korean. A small jet of water flew out of his wand and nailed Moody between the eyes. A second later, a current traveled through the water and nearly zapped the man, and he fell to the ground shivering.

"In terms of dueling", Harry said suddenly, pacing this way and that, "Wizards are classified on the Five Pillar scale."

He stared at Moody.

"The Five Pillars are Spell Power, Skill with Magic, Speed of Movement, Devices in Possession, and Bloodlines! They range between zero and ten. Any person with a combined score of over ten is a C class wizard. Over fifteen is B class, and twenty would make you A class. Anyone who has a score of over thirty is a Mage, and over forty five, a Sorcerer."

He dodged a spell that Moody fired at him from behind, a tripping jinx of all things, and returned a Stunner which hit the downed Moody in the chest.

"Professor Moody was once considered a Mage. It is clear that he is barely C class now." And with that, Harry walked out of the room, followed by several other people, including Daphne but not Hermione. After fifteen minutes, the entire class left, and no one witnessed Moody's transformation into someone who was not quite Moody after an hour passed.

**Mangekyo**

"Now, add the Boomslang skin to the Kelpie-"

"Yes, I know. We had just talked about this potion yesterday, remember?"

Harry nodded, his face reddening slightly. "Sorry, Daphne. I'm too used to telling you what to do in Potions..."

"There's no harm done", Daphne said, kissing Harry on the cheek when Snape wasn't looking.

"Two points from Slytherin, Ms. Greengrass, for obvious reasons. Potter, Greengrass, see me after class."

"Damn, you gave him an excuse", muttered Harry. Daphne pursed her lips.

Snape collected the Rash Reducing Concoction and then dismissed the class.

Harry walked up to Snape's desk.

He expected Snape to begin shouting, but Snape just continued to grade essays.

"I can't protect you any more, can I, Harry?" Snape asked, his voice lacking its usual vitriol.

Harry pulled in a deep breath.

"Making deal with Fae folk, breaking into Charlemange's tomb, killing Aurors, dueling against Dumbledore, a Primary Color from the Mage's Association, and Nicholas Flamel himself. And winning two out of those three duels."

Neither Harry nor Daphne spoke.

"My left eye's evolved", Harry said.

Snape looked up expectantly.

"Mangekyo Sharingan", Harry said. His blue and gold eye spun, and Snape examined it slowly.

"What does it do?"

"You know about the Caliburn, right? The reason I was able to duel so well when I had it was because I was capable of reading my opponent's intent in real time, seconds before they performed their actions. That's an eternity to my Kaleidoscope. When Flamel kidnapped me, I had very nearly gone blind from the use of my left Kaleidoscope. I escaped with the Kamui and it exploded, then absorbed the Caliburn and regenerated, retaining the mind based power of the Sword that Chose."

"Sword that Chose?"

"Well, it can't really choose another wielder while it's part of my eye, right?"

Snape nodded.

There was another silence.

"I heard about your duel with Moody."

"He was pathetic! Barely better than the Aurors."

"Surely he couldn't have become that bad?" Snape stared.

"I can't say I understand his decline in skill either, but it might have something to do with the fact that he needs to drink some sort of unidentified potion to survive."

"I'm very sure that it's whiskey in his flask, Harry", Snape said, raising right eyebrow.

"No. It had a magical sheen to it that only potions have."

Snape frowned.

After several more minutes of silence, Harry decided that he didn't want to be late when giving his lecture to the Advanced Runes class on his contributions to Rune Magazine, and they left.

"What are you playing at, Moody?" Snape asked the empty classroom. "Just what are you playing at?"

**Mangekyo**

Another tree grew out of the stone, and Daphne stared at it in frustration. Harry was still giving his lecture about runes, so he couldn't give her pointers, or tell her how her magic was flowing. She had wanted to grow vines instead, but for some reason, all she could form were grass and fruit trees.

She tried again, throwing all her magic into it, but then slumped to the ground, drained, and felt depleted beyond anything she had done before. She couldn't help it as her vision dimmed, and she passed out for the eighth time.

"You shouldn't work so hard on this", Hermione whispered.

There was no response.

"What would Harry think, Daph? He'd really hate to see you like that."

There was still no response.

"Daphne?" Hermione asked, shaking the girl slightly.

A cute little snore issued forth from Daphne's coral pink lips, and Hermione nearly squealed.

"Daphne?" Hermione shook her again.

Hermione couldn't help herself. She leaned in and began nibbling on Daphne's lips, hoping that the girl was too magically exhausted to even think of catching her.

Daphne let out a breathy moan.

Hermione froze, and backed away, but she realized that Daphne was still on the cusp of unconsciousness.

She levitated Daphne onto a bed that Harry had permanently transfigured a while ago, to deal with the times when he miscalculated and ran out of juice.

"M-maybe I should undress her. Or else she won't be c-comfortable when she wakes up." She didn't know who she was talking to, and then realized exactly why she had said so.

She fired a locking charm at the door, the strongest one she knew, and sprinted back over to where Daphne was sleeping peacefully.

Her breathing grew labored. "I can't believe I'm going to do this", she whispered to Daphne.

**[Citrus]**

She slowly removed Daphne's Slytherin House robes, exposing a bare shoulder, and then the lace teddy that Daphne had torn off in front of Harry last year.

Her cheeks grew red as she slowly caressed Daphne's face, sitting down beside her sleeping form.

"In truth, I love you as much as I love Harry", she admitted. "I-I'm too much of a coward to try this with Harry, but..."

She leaned down nervously, and gently pressed her lips against Daphne's own. With her tongue, she gently probed, seeking entrance, and when Daphne let out a little sigh and unconsciously parted her lips, Hermione started softly exploring the depths of her mouth. Daphne shifted slightly as Hermione continued to kiss her, and gave soft little mewls that awoke something in Hermione that she didn't know existed before, a burning desire that she hadn't acknowledged until now. She slipped a hand underneath the teddy, and ran her fingers along Daphne's skin, exploring with only the lightest touches in an attempt to avoid waking the sleeping girl.

Hermione released Daphne's lips, and started to move slowly down towards her body, planting light kisses on her face and neck. She leaned back, and slid the sheer fabric of the teddy down towards Daphne's stomach, exposing her breasts to the cool air. Hermione couldn't help but notice that Daphne's breasts were slightly larger than her own, and that her nipples had quickly hardened when exposed to the smooth brushes from Hermione's fingertips along with the cool breeze coming from the gap beneath the door.

She ran her fingers gently around Daphne's breasts, and gently planted kisses on her shoulder and chest, before running her tongue across the swell of her right breast, towards Daphne's now-stiff nipple. Then, she traced around the hard nubbin with her tongue, before taking it into her mouth and chewing very gently. She was rewarded with a slight gasp from the blond girl which, despite the fear of being caught, caused a rush of blood in Hermione.

She couldn't resist continuing to chew on them ever so softly when Daphne made the same delectable mewls that she had when Hermione kissed her.

Hermione sat back, admiring the waterfall of sunshine that was Daphne's hair, as she began sliding the bunched-up undergarments down to her hips, and gently slipping them out from under her body so that she was completely naked.

A sudden cold draft hit Daphne's mound, and she whimpered slightly. Hermione resisted the urge to wrap herself around Daphne and squeeze, but by this point she was trembling with a combination of nervousness and anticipation. She trailed her fingers gently down Daphne's chest, over her stomach, and down to Daphne's slit and ran her hand over it. She wasn't sure if Daphne was slick due to sweat, or arousal, but she could definitely feel her own dampness between her thighs, and she gently began exploring Daphne's folds with a single finger, delighting in the louder moans and groans that she was causing.

Breathing heavily, Hermione removed her finger from Daphne's warmth, and gave it an experimental lick. Daphne had a deep, musky scent, and she tasted of nature and the wilderness; Hermione found it wholly addictive. She had moved beyond any potential explanation now, and had a sudden and overwhelming flash of guilt when she realised just how far she had gone in exploring Daphne's body without her knowledge or consent. She could see the flush in Daphne's cheeks and breasts, and had a pang of regret when she considered how Daphne might react when she discovered what one of her best friends had done to her while she was overcome with exhaustion.

Daphne's breathing had become heavier as she got more and more agitated, and Hermione lowered her mouth again, unable to resist kissing Daphne's thighs, and then exploring her folds with her tongue in an attempt to taste her more deeply. When her tongue hit Daphne's clitoris, she let out a much louder gasp and moan, and Hermione lost what little restraint she had retained, attacking the hard nub with both her tongue and fingers.

Despite Hermione's inexperienced ministrations, it wasn't long before she came to a shuddering climax, letting out a very loud and sensual moan as she did so. As she came down from her orgasmic high, Daphne slowly opened her eyes. She suddenly shot up, and looked straight into Hermione's eyes, as she realised that she was now completely naked, and that there was a witch breathing heavily and poised between her legs. Hermione jumped away from her in surprise, but Daphne's hands abruptly grabbed her by the breast and pulled her back.

Daphne growled and, despite its inherent femininity and sheer softness, Hermione never felt so threatened before.

"How dare you", she said quietly.

Hermione made an uncomfortable squeak, trying not to think of the soft hand that had a painful vice-grip on her left breast.

Suddenly, she threw Hermione down onto the bed and began ripping her clothes off and, in a smooth motion, inserted two of her fingers into Hermione's folds.

Hermione screamed, partially in pain and partially in pleasure.

"How do you like it?" whispered Daphne. As Hermione tried to gather enough breath to respond between her shuddering moans, Daphne began wiggling her fingers deep inside her, causing another loud moan as the highly-aroused witch had her most private areas explored more deeply than ever before.

"How do you like being taken, Hermione?" Daphne asked roughly. "How do you like being mine to use?"

Daphne stopped suddenly, and pinned Hermione's arms to her sides, pushing her legs open.

"Daphne?"

Daphne surveyed her for a moment with an expression that was clearly Harry's - the narrowing eyes and the rapid blinking. She was still breathing very heavily, and Hermione found she was still turned on, despite the severe expression on Daphne's face.

"Why don't I show you how it feels to be completely helpless to my advances, Hermione? Immobulus."

Hermione froze, quite literally, as Daphne sat next to her magically stiffened body. She was completely unable to move anything but her eyes, but still managed to convey her pleading. Please. Please, let me...

But Daphne would have none of it as she slowly teased Hermione, running a long tongue over her inner thighs and around her nipples, with rough and firm movements that were a stark contrast to the gentle touches that Hermione had used. Daphne didn't have to worry about waking her victim up, after all.

Suddenly, she dove into Hermione's inner folds with her tongue and began pushing her tongue in and out of Hermione, her nose slightly nudging Hermione's clit with every movement.

Hermione, being completely unable to move or speak, began to cry softly with frustration as Daphne stopped and started, keeping her at the very brink of release, but never truly experiencing la petite mort.

Suddenly, the freezing charm lifted, and Hermione gave huge gasps of surprise, her flailing hands tightly grabbing the bedsheets and her toes curling desperately. Daphne kept her whole body firmly pinned to the mattress, even as she tried to arch herself towards Daphne's mouth in the hopes of finally reaching that blissful state.

"Please, Daphne. P-please. Let me..." Hermione's face turned a deeper red, signifying a small measure of embarrassment.

"Tell me what you want me to do, Hermione", Daphne commanded huskily. "What do you want me to do to you?" Her voice was sweet-sounding, and even possessed an innocent lilt, but Hermione was wholly unable to break free of her hold. She was still gently stroking Hermione with her fingers, enough to keep her highly aroused but not enough to bring her to orgasm.

"Please. Let me... c-cum."

"What does that entail?" Daphne mockingly wondered aloud. "What exactly do you want me to do, Hermione? I must confess to not understanding", she said, in perfect imitation of Harry's 'polite' voice.

"I want you to... l-lick me. H-harder and faster. U-until I can't take it anymore", Hermione finally admitted. "P-please..."

Daphne hummed as if in deep thought, tilting her head to the side. "I don't know if you deserve it, Hermione. After all, bad girls sometimes need to be denied what they-"

"Daphne!" Hermione screamed in frustration, though there was still a pleading in her voice that elicited a smirk from the other girl.

Daphne leaned over Hermione, and her long hair brushed Hermione's nipples tantalizingly.

"Okay." Daphne moved down to Hermione's clitoris, and began licking it slowly, speeding up every few seconds as Hermione writhed and moaned.

"D-Daphne!" Hermione cried out. She had come closer than ever before when Daphne stopped again.

"Tell me, Hermione, what will you do if I let you cum?"

"Anything", Hermione gasped out, realizing the hold Daphne had on her.

"Very well." Daphne's tongue darted into Hermione's slit, and as Hermione reached the point of no return, a small spark of magic jumped between them. The promise had been magically binding, but Hermione didn't care. Her entire world had become Daphne's tongue, which pulsed in and out of her, as huge waves of orgasm crashed upon her unlike anything she had ever felt before.

"D-Daphne! O-oh Daphne", Hermione screamed out as her body spasmed, the seconds stretching into minutes of perfect pleasure as she knew she'd never experience another orgasm quite like this one.

And then, it was over. Every several seconds, a small aftershock of the bliss would hit her, and drive her back down to the bed even as she tried to sit up, and Daphne smirked over her, sitting with her legs crossed slightly, her sweat-drenched breasts glinting at Hermione. Hermione stared at the puffy pink nipples, mesmerized.

A cold fear stabbed Hermione in the chest. Daphne could now order her to do anything. And she would have to comply, or die.


	37. The Eyes of a Demon Hunter

Disclaimer: The Kaleidoscopeverse is a melding of Harry Potter, Fate/StayNight, Tsukihime, Naruto, and world religions, the last of which belongs to everyone and is not limited to the three Abrahamaic faiths, Buddhism, Shintoism and Hinduism. Heh. You mad yet?

Author's Note: Guys, the lemon is entirely consensual now. Looking back, I don't know what I was thinking, honestly. Harry's reaction has been edited, so now he looks a little jealous and not extremely angry.

**Mangekyo**

"You two had better tell me what the fuck that was all about!", Harry roared.

They both winced.

"What were you thinking!" Harry screamed at Hermione. "And you", his voice dropped to a hiss that resembled Parseltongue. "An Oath-Upon-Consummation?"

He had actually begun crying. "I t-thought I knew you two." He furiously wiped his tears away. "I'm gone for three hours, and you pull something like this, as if I wasn't going to find out or something. _I can read your every action, feel your every feeling_."

He paused, his left eye slightly red.

"I don't know what to do with you", he said to Hermione. "That was unforgivable."

"But as unforgivable as it was..." he rounded on Daphne, "that was simply a despicable response to it."

"I'm not _jealous_", Harry roared at Daphne, who flinched and realized too late that he _was_ capable of reading their every thought whether she liked it or not. "I've been running around, trying to give Legilimenic therapy to Katie Bell and Anthony Goldstein because they were at Rome Duels and they were caught in the Reality Marble, and I come back to the two people that I would always count on to be morally supportive to combat the pain I'm literally pulling from them, and I come back to _this_."

"What's wrong with Goldstein and Bell?" Hermione asked, rather timidly.

"I don't know, honestly. It's as if their personalities have imploded. Flamel wiped their minds so thoroughly they'll never have memories of the overwhelming fear of being murdered, in his case, or getting thrown off a building without a broom, in hers... but it's as if they've sort of died." He deflated. "It was the worst mistake I've ever made."

Hermione wrapped her arms around him.

"Get off of me, you! If she had actually been asleep, that would have been _rape_" he shouted, and she bounced off him as if stung.

He burst into tears again. "I-I lifted their insanity straight from their minds, bit by bit. I'll... I'll be okay in several days. I'm sorry for this. I can deal with any and all misery very easily, it's mine after all, but I seem to have assimilated their personalities, so I'm rather... tripolar, if I can use that word. _That_ was the Anthony in me talking. Very Ravenclaw. Katie's personality thinks you're a molester of some sort. As Harry, I'm just disappointed in you."

He turned away. "Now, tell her to fetch you a pumpkin juice, or kill her, Daphne. I'm not going to really care for the next two or three days. Too disappointed", he said shortly, as he just left the room.

Somehow that was worse than the sensation of being magically bound, Hermione decided.

**Mangekyo**

"Hello, Harry Potter."

Harry knew it was a student, somewhat shorter than Daphne, and with a decent amount of magic. "Hello."

"Why are you upset?"

"Oh, this and that."

"You're not being yourself", she said.

He laughed a bit at that. "You're very observant", he nodded as he turned to face her. "You're... Luna Lovegood", his eye told him.

She clapped. "You know who I am!"

"Yes. It's hard for me to forget faces", Harry said, his thoughts wandering.

"Why do you hide your right eye?" Luna asked suddenly. "Is it really because the Dillywumps have taken it in exchange for the right to rule the world?"

Harry nearly jumped in alarm. That could have been a very roundabout way of-

"Or is it because you discovered the true identity of Stubby Boardman and he carved it out with a spoon?"

Harry, who had read several Quibbler articles about how Stubby Boardman was a pop singer who was also supposedly his godfather, chuckled and abandoned his desire to silence Luna, in one way or another.

"So, can you tell me what's wrong?"

"No, I'm sorry, Luna", he said. "But thanks for caring." He smiled, and patted the girl on the head, then walked away.

Luna skipped away merrily.

**Mangekyo**

It was two days before Harry finally managed to ruthlessly crush both Katie and Anthony, both of whom died protesting in his mind. He had shut himself in the armory, materialized his Reality Marble again, and killed them with the Flames of Shining Heaven. Of course, they weren't _really_ Bell or Goldstein, but it still made him feel vaguely ill.

Now that he was himself, he found it even more difficult to talk to Daphne and Hermione.

They had made up easily, and were experimenting with each other more than they worked on their magical objectives.

Harry didn't like it, and his growls and shouting made it abundantly clear. On some level, he knew he _was_ jealous, but he convinced himself that he was both happy for them, and that he didn't want to interfere.

So he sat alone in the uncomfortable armory, drawing rune after rune with his lips pursed. The Sumerian series spoke the same language as his soul - a song of loneliness and responsibility.

He began carving the rune for King once more, both of his Sharingan spinning wildly, using the Joyeuse rather than the Crimson Ruby.

"There is nothing joyful about moving toward the rule over men", he said.

He walked out of the armory with the Joyeuse tucked away in subspace and the Crimson Ruby at his waist, walking towards the Great Hall slowly.

He vaguely remembered hearing that the other two schools participating in the Triwizard tournament would be arriving today.

He pushed open the door, cursing the echoing bang that it made, to a Hall full of people eating, the Durmstrang students sitting with the Slytherins and the Beauxbatons students sitting with the Ravenclaws.

Of course, there was a measured hush. It happened whenever he walked in late, but today he realized that he cut quite a figure, drenched in sweat, his robes open and his sword swinging.

But that thought was immediately erased when he felt the full force of someone wanting to kill him fall upon his general field of Legilimency.

He locked eyes with a silvery-blond French girl, who glared daggers at him and narrowed his eyes.

The silence didn't waver as the entirety of the three schools watch Harry Potter and the as yet unnamed student have a staring contest. Dumbledore frowned.

_Thunk_. The Crimson Ruby sank into the stone as Harry drew it smoothly and plunged it into the ground in front of him.

The girl stood up.

"I am Fleur Delacour of Delacour, foul demon."

Harry's one visible eye widened. "Demon?" He gave a harsh, barking laugh. "I am _the_ Potter of Potter. Watch your words, _mademoiselle_."

She drew her wand deliberately. "It is the right of the Demon Hunter to cleanse that which is foul from the good Earth. Speak your final thoughts, demon."

"I have a bunch of 'final thoughts'", Harry bit out sarcastically. "Such as 'who the fuck are you?' and 'why the fuck are you pointing a wand at me?' and of course 'why the fuck do you think I'm a demon?'. I think the last bit is sort of important, actually."

A lance of light ripped out of the point of her wand, easily as quickly as the ward in Charlemange's tomb, but Harry possessed an Eternal Kaleidoscope, as well as a lot more room to maneuver now.

"A Holy spell?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Die, foul demon!"

Harry was in a predicament. The only thing that was strong enough to hold off the Holy Light was Susano'o (reinforced by his Eternal eye), but that would simply scream to the world that he was James Evans. Kamui and Tsukuyomi were out of the question, as that involved his left eye, and he didn't even want to think about restoring the sanity of everyone if he used the Reality Marble edition of the spell. The Black Flames were rather well known, but he didn't really want to burn the girl into a crisp, as that would definitely alienate Dumbledore.

He couldn't even summon his Sand Demon to tank the blows, or use any of the spells that James Evans had used on either Dumbledore, Aoko Aozaki, or Nicholas Flamel. It was severely limiting.

His response was to fire a huge brace of three hundred and thirty eight Stunning Spells. If fifteen or more hit her, she would die, if seven hit her, it'd put her in a coma.

Of course, Harry's opponent had to be competent, and dodged the spells with the same contortions he was personally fond of. This was a serious enemy, and he was simply unable to pull out all stops. He didn't even want to know what Dumbledore would think if he found out that Harry was James Evans.

He ran through the spells he had known when he dueled Voldemort, and settled on his Charge Step as his absolute defense. He had finally divined the H. L. K. Mastershield that Dumbledore had used, but the girl wasn't using any transfiguration, and his version was both weaker than the Headmaster's and would have been terribly suspicious.

He let loose another impossibly large brace of Stunning spells, but they were blocked by a Bunker Charm.

Dumbledore finally reacted, and Harry vaguely wondered if he had wanted to evaluate his dueling skills. The man let loose an overpowered Wide-Area Concussion curse. Harry allowed it to hit his Charge Step, and fell to the floor convincingly. He glanced over and was pleased to see that this Fleur Delacour person had been knocked out.

"Harry!" Hermione and Daphne screamed, as they ran over, but Harry got up immediately. Dumbledore stared at him suspiciously, but chalked it up to a personal Shield charm or whatever had been popular in the sixties, which Harry would have no doubt researched.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Now can you tell me what the _fuck_ that was about, and why the _fuck_ you allowed so many spells to fly?" he snapped at Dumbledore. "I cast six hundred and seventy six stunning spells in an Array-burst format, and I'm drained", he lied. "I didn't even want to hurt her. Why couldn't you have-"

"Calm down, my boy. I must confess to not being sure of what happened myself. My reactions aren't like what they were."

Harry rolled his eyes, thinking of how Dumbledore had dodged the tentacles of the Sand Demon and turned it into a melting glass statue with the First Blaze within seconds.

Dumbledore pretended not to hear his protests as he conjured a pair of stretchers for both Harry and Fleur Delacour, then shipped them off to the Hospital Wing. He also cast a sleeping charm at Harry, which he could have dodged, or deconstructed, but he didn't.

**Mangekyo**

"Put the sword down."

"Demon!" Fleur shouted, bringing the sword down on Harry's neck.

Harry rolled over easily, and it ended up shredding his pillow. A wave of his banished Fleur against the opposite wall, and held her there. "I wanted to do _that_ the whole time, but everyone was watching."

"Demon!" she shouted again. Harry vaguely realized that she was speaking in French, but he understood her intentions and thoughts rather than language.

"I'm not a demon!" he shouted back. "I don't understand what you're on about."

"You have the taint of demonity and the scent of blood about you", she said, glaring.

"Taint of demonity? That's not even a word!" Harry said.

"You _feel_ like a demon. And you've killed", she said, still speaking in French, but Harry's eyes seemed to have broken any and all language barriers.

"Yes, I have killed. It was in self defense. Does the guy named Voldemort ring a bell? I'm Harry Potter", he said, feeling rather exasperated. While he normally hated his fame, it surely proved a point.

"You're a demon who's possessed Harry Potter", she said, looking resigned. "And now, I've failed my family, as the last fourteen scions have."

"I give you points for facing death head on, but I'm not going to kill you. I need to know exactly what part of me smells like demonity or something ridiculous like that", he said. It was clear that the girl understood English, but couldn't speak it - at least not without some sort of horrendous accent, he supposed.

"You smell like victims, and kills. Like the robbed, the raped, the burned. You smell like-"

"Misery", Harry said flatly. "Sorry to impugn your _noble quest_, but it's just my bloodline. It allows me to know the evils of humanity. Are you happy?"

"No. I'm suspended in the air by a lying demon, about to die", she bit out.

Harry grunted, and let her down. "Are you happy now?"

"No. I'm in the company of a lying demon, about to die."

"Now you're just having a tantrum", Harry scolded. "I'm no more demon than you are an ange- Veela!" he suddenly exclaimed. "Ah, I understand now. The half-man, half-bird children of elvenkind long lost to the world, with a strong affinity for the light, fire, and sexuality. Creatures of passion, and happiness. I might as well be a demon, I suppose. I would prefer it if you didn't shout about my nature in front of Professor Dumbledore, though."

"I knew I'd caught you!" Fleur exclaimed, looking strangely happy. "I knew you were a demon!"

"My god, don't you have a brain? I swear on the Good Book that I'm not a demon!" he said.

She looked at him incredulously.

"Okay! Fine! I swear on my magic, I swear on my magic, I swear on my magic", he said, utilizing a three-fold chant, "that I'm not a demon, that I've never been a demon, and I am Harry Potter."

A warm blue glow surrounded him, and Harry cast a quick Lumos, lighting up the tip of his wand. "See?"

Fleur looked at him as if he were something else entirely. "I misjudged you", she finally said.

Harry nodded. "You did", he said smugly, feeling as if he'd gotten his point across.

"You must be an Archdemon, to be able to lie through your teeth while giving a magical oath... what power!" she exclaimed, looking horrified.

"Oooh, I hate you!" Harry exclaimed, feeling extremely unbalanced. His Royal Kaleidoscope wasn't active, so he didn't have to balance Misery with Joy - why did he feel so out-of-control? He idly wondered if there was a personality imprint on the Caliburn, and if he'd pulled in some of King Arthur's personality. "I'm not a demon!"

He took a deep breath. "Set. Split. Shut. Unhand. Unname. Unknown. Reforge. Revitalize. Retake. In the name of the nine Great Runic Representations of Sumeria, I take the true name Harry Potter, and unbind any allegiances, names, and powers I had before I possessed my name!"

There was a flash of blue, and Harry cast another spell, showcasing his remaining ability to do magic.

"Well, I suppose you really aren't a demon. Exactly what are you?" Fleur said, showing a completely different side now that he wasn't her mortal enemy or something ridiculous.

"I'm a hundred percent human, and around a hundred and fifty percent annoyed."

To her credit, she looked a little ashamed for a moment, and then her pride surged again. "Why didn't you do that before?"

"You mean when you were firing Hallowed Magic at me? Or when you were poised over me with a sword?"

She glared.

"You're such a spoiled... _leetle girl_", Harry said, doing a passable imitation of a French accent.

Fleur continued to glare.

"To be honest, I'm sort of curious. Where did you learn Hallowed magic of all things?" Harry asked.

"Family trade. We're Demon Hunters", she said, looking very proud of the fact.

"Kill any archdemons recently?" Harry mocked.

Fleur's glare returned full force, but then she unexpectedly blushed. "No. Our family hasn't slain an archdemon for many generations."

"Well, there can't be so many archdemons out there anymore, considering the fact that humanity's reigned for five hundred years using science and firearms."

"No... they're out there. There are around two hundred archdemons left. They generally don't bother many people, but once in a while, Demon Hunters have to put them down."

"Do you put them down by being suspended in the air? Or forcing them to invoke oaths about how they're not demons, stripping them of their magic?" Harry muttered sarcastically. Fleur didn't hear him.

"It's a difficult job, and hundreds of House Delacour have died subduing even lesser demons. But it won't happen to me!" Fleur suddenly exclaimed, losing her practiced nobility, and looking like another person talking about her dream. "I'm going to kill an archdemon, maybe more than one!"

"Well, to be honest, you know some Magic", Harry said, feeling less than optimistic about Fleur's chances of killing demons, which were capable of rather potent Dark Magic that always had at least one of three aims - to maim, kill or pleasure. In some cases, all three.

"I know lots of magic!" Fleur retorted hotly. "I've spent at least an hour a day learning magic for ten years!"

Harry stared at her incredulously. "I spend four hours a day penning treatises on Runes, at least three hours a day reading books on esoteric bullshit that I'll never actually use, and another seven _dueling_. An hour a day is _not_ impressive."

Fleur scrutinized him deeply, and then shook her head. "Why weren't you able to hit me, then?" she wondered, a scowl marring the face of unearthly beauty.

"Well, you really can't show all your cards in front of some people. For some strange reason, I think I can trust you. Mostly because you seem too dumb to put things together and give out my secrets."

Fleur looked ready to throttle him.

"Look, I'm sorry I'm being a wanker of massive proportions", Harry said after a tense silence. "I've had a rough several weeks, and I feel like I'm making no progress toward my long term goals, and you're a really easy target."

"Easy target?"

"I'm still being a wanker, right?"

Fleur nodded, smiling slightly. Despite Harry's interactions with Scathach, he still found the smile to be dazzling.

He drew a book out of his robes. "_Dueling Professionally_. It's served me well, and it'll get you from B class to A class." It landed on Fleur's bed with a thump, and the thin volume spilled open. "It teaches you about Curse Chaining, the Flurry, and offensive use of Runic Arrays."

Harry neglected to tell her that he had written and published it in the abandoned classroom on the third floor.

"James Evans wrote this?" Fleur gasped. "The one who defeated Dumbledore and Aoko Aozaki in Rome Duels?" She squealed. "How did you get this?" she asked, with amazement in her eyes.

Harry banished the smirk threatening to form on his face. "He doesn't want other people to know, but I've been his friend for a while..."

"You _have_ to introduce me to him! Maybe he can teach me how to kill demons!"

"One... track... mind..."


	38. The Eyes of Champions

Disclaimer: The Kaleidoscopeverse is a melding of Harry Potter, Fate/StayNight, Tsukihime, Naruto, and world religions, the last of which belongs to everyone and is not limited to the three Abrahamaic faiths, Buddhism, Shintoism and Hinduism. Heh. You mad yet?

Author's Note: Guys. Fleur isn't pathetic or wimpy. She's just not a mother fucking sorcerer. She's actually bordering on A class - for a normal seventeen year old, that's, for the lack of a better term, fucking pro. Not everyone's as great as Harry and Dumbledore... If Hermione or Daphne attacked Harry for real, they would get the same results as she did, possibly worse, because they don't know any Hallowed magic, which travels so fast that you need an Eternal eye to dodge it properly. Point being, if she fought a lesser demon, she'd kick its ass. Honestly.

Author's Note: It appears that changing two lines can remove all the not so pseudo-rape from Chapter 36. So yeah. The lemon is consensual sex now, and I don't feel so disgusting and squicky and all. Harry's reaction to it has been changed very slightly as well.

Anon: I suppose it's a little bit OOC, but... I guess all I can say is "trust me for now"? Just a bit? You would think that after 37 chapters, 250 thousand hits, and 1.2k reviews, I'd possibly know where I was going with it? Maybe? Perchance? I'm sorry I'm coming off like a douchebag. It's just that I edited out the bits that could be construed as violently inappropriate by retroactivity, and still left enough motivation for the events that occurred. Honestly, I don't want you to stop reading, but please, please just bear with me? There's a reason for everything - nearly all of my chapters are either Character Development, Plot Devices, or Chekov's Guns.

tjg: All of that will be addressed - I haven't forgotten anything. Big fan of Chekov here :P

**Mangekyo**

"No, the Corkscrew Twist is around fifteen degrees further to the right. It affects the power quotient; any spell that has it, and is done improperly, will end up costing you around thirty five percent of the magical output you utilize per curse."

Fleur nodded and tried it again. While she had started learning how to duel properly from scratch, she was easily as dedicated as he was, which made for a very good student. Already, most of the weapons that were not enchanted in the Armory had been damaged by her spells, which were slowly picking up in power and accuracy.

"The Plebeian's Slash should be more forceful, as if you were attempting to actually cut someone with your wand-tip. That's possible, by the way. Observe." Harry conjured a wooden dummy, and cut it open with an impossibly fast slash. "Wands will not break as long as the magic being channeled into it is stronger than the target. That's why they can actually block bullets if you're quick enough."

"Can you _be_ fast enough to block bullets?" Fleur wondered, undoubtedly thinking of all the bullets that demons would be sending her way.

"Yes. It's possible. James Evans can do it easily."

It appeared that James Evans was an international superhero nowadays. There were three articles a day in the Prophet that speculated about his existence and whereabouts, and a fantastically accurate Quibbler article that proclaimed that he was a student by day, and a Fae consort by night.

"You still have to introduce me to James Evans", she muttered.

They enjoyed each other's company. Fleur was relieved to be spending time with a boy who was nice to her, but did not want to get into her pants, and could understand French. Harry realized that he enjoyed teaching, and Fleur was a good outlet for releasing his frustrations in the form of barbed words that she generally ignored.

"So why are you competing in the Triwizard tournament?" Harry asked. He had been wondering for a little while.

"Glory", she said, without a thought.

"How are you going to kill demons if you get slain by an errant Manticore? I hear that the Manticore is a traditional beast to use in the First Task. In fact, I doubt even James Evans would enjoy retrieving a silver branch from such a deadly beast, with all his vaunted powers", Harry said, smiling indulgently.

Fleur frowned. "I will kill any Manticore attempting to impede my quest."

"That's the spirit!" Harry pointed at another dummy. "Lightning Decapitation, try for a better Wilmer's Flick this time."

**Mangekyo**

The better part of two months passed in a flash. Harry's defense classes had turned into mockeries. They were barely entertaining.

His continued lessons with Fleur helped him discover yet another aspect of the world he lived in. It appeared that the Confederation of Demon Hunters was a powerful organization, with four Families in each major country in the world, and two in every minor country. They mostly kept to themselves, but the Mage's Association seemed to be aware of them.

The majority of the Demon Hunters were humans with Bloodlines but no Magic. There were other part-Veela hunters who possessed Magic like Fleur, but the majority of them weren't capable of magecraft beyond the lowest applications of it - generally done by a process known as Circuit Forcing.

The Delacour family was a shamed family. While they had defeated no less than three thousand lesser demons, they hadn't killed any archdemons in so many generations that every single other family in Europe had surpassed them.

"I have to restore our Honor."

Fleur spoke of Honor with a capitalized H. Honor was how she lived, and it was the one thing that Harry never mocked about her. She was a Knight, in all senses of the word - impulsive, but with a heart full of resolve and steel that Harry respected above all else when it came to the blond girl.

He wasn't surprised by the fact that she was capable of using the weapon of nobility - the Rapier. She told him that the Delacour Rapier would be passed to her when she killed her first demon after she turned seventeen, despite the fact that she'd killed eight or nine demons already. She still hadn't killed one since she reached her majority.

Of course, Harry always defeated her. She may have been more skilled in a single style, but his Eyes allowed him to adapt to everyone he had ever fought (with a single marked exception of a seven hundred year old sorcerer).

"Who taught you?" Fleur ground out, as she was knocked on her ass by the flat of the Crimson Ruby again.

"James Evans. You know that already. Didn't you hear about his skill with the Caliburn?" Harry asked, his face completely straight.

"They're choosing the Champions today", Fleur said.

"Oh, is it Halloween already?" Harry's sword wove in and out of a series of pre-cut holes in the wall, displaying perfect accuracy with stabbing aspect of the Crimson Ruby.

"It's the day on which your parents..." Fleur trailed off, her rapid French taking on a sorrowful tone.

"Yeah. It's not something I care to talk about often." Harry paused, and then finally told Fleur to ask him another day, when he was in a better mood.

They walked into the Great Hall early, and Harry sat at the Gryffindor table. Fleur, as usual, sat next to the Ravenclaw prefects, who were already there, most of them reading.

As the Halloween feast began, Hermione sat on his left and Daphne on his right once more. Harry realized that he was noticeably more comfortable when he was around them.

"Fleur Delacour, Harry?" Daphne asked.

Harry stiffened. The conversations between them in the past two months were mildly strained, and generally about Runic Arrays or dueling techniques, as well as long lectures on Bloodline Theory.

"Yes. She is a good friend", he said carefully.

"Are you two...?"

"No."

There was no more conversation, but Hermione felt it was a start.

The feast continued slowly, and Harry found something cold settle in his stomach. He wondered if it was a premonition, or just a bit of unhappiness due to the significance of the day. He briefly wondered what life would be like with a mother to guide him through the development of his Sharingan, which would likely be single-tomoe at this point if he had parents - none of the Dursley's abuses would have happened, and Ovid wouldn't have died. He wouldn't have gone looking for Excalibur, and the Kusanagi would have rejected him for not having the Kaleidoscope.

"Suicidal thoughts?" Fleur joked, though neither of them laughed. She had seated herself across from Harry.

"_You_", Daphne hissed.

"She's a friend of mine", Harry said, his eyes narrowing.

"I thought I'd be around my only friend here when they chose the champions", she said, smiling. They were both aware that Fleur, while possessing a crowd of admirers, spent too much time plotting the death of Archdemons and crafting solutions to arithmantic problems to have any real friends. Harry had misjudged her. Beneath the facade of an obsessed Demon Hunter and the sharp-as-a-butter-knife blond, there was a religious girl who appreciated swordplay, muggle classics from the nineteenth century, and plants.

Dumbledore dimmed the light in the Hall with a wave of his hand, and the Goblet of Fire, the device that would decide the names of the champions, flared brightly.

The only protection around it was an age line that Dumbledore had drawn with a stick of chalk and several strands of iron filings.

"Undoubtedly, younger students have entered. I'm sure, however, that the Seventh Years are more qualified. I suppose I'd fancy a go at it."

"Oh please", Fleur scoffed. "You hate the idea of competing with schoolchildren."

"What's she saying?" Daphne asked Hermione, the latter of which understood French, but was staring at the Goblet intently.

"The Champion for Beauxbatons Academy of Magic is..." The Goblet flared again, and Harry observed the Roman design. It was rather large, and its magical power was quite obvious.

"Fleur Delacour!"

Fleur stood up and curtsied, then walked off into a small room attached to the Great Hall.

"The Champion for Durmstrang Institute is..." Harry stared at Slytherin table.

"Viktor Krum!"

Krum, who Harry realized was the Bulgarian National Seeker, stood up and grunted at the congregation of three schools, and sauntered into the room.

"The Champion for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is... Cedric Diggory!"

Cedric Diggory, who Harry remembered, was a morally righteous Hufflepuff Seventh Year that everyone but the Slytherin Quidditch team respected. He thought the boy was a good choice.

"And that concludes the selection for the Triwizard Tourna-"

The Goblet flared again, and another slip of paper was spat out of it.

Dumbledore caught it quickly, and stared at it long and hard.

"Harry Potter."

Huge strands of Magic poured out of the cup and attempted to wrap themselves around him, even as Harry dissected them.

They were endless - Harry knew it because the Goblet of Fire drew power from the earth. Harry stood as the red glow of a deconstructed spell with the power of a true Marble Phantasm (a term he had begun to use to refer to the Susano'o) attempted to wrap around him.

"No." He decided, and he lobbed the Crimson Ruby magically. It speed through the air and sank into the Goblet of Fire in an outpouring of multicolored sparks that reminded Harry of Aoko Aozaki's Starbow spell.

The Goblet stopped belching magic for a moment, before it began again, damaged greatly, but not quite disrupted.

Harry cursed under his breathe. The Caliburn or the Kusanagi both had the latent power to destroy magical artifacts with ease, but they were both broken or indisposed. Short of the Shining Heaven, he would have to endure the stupid kid's game, and so he let the magic wrap around him. It wound against him very tightly, and while he couldn't actually feel it, he could perceive it, and he disliked watching what looked like ropes bind him.

"Dumblydoor", Madame Maxime, the Headmistress of Beauxbatons said loudly. "I do not believe the boy put his name in the Goblet."

"I thought that was sort of obvious when he threw a sword at the cup", Igor Kakaroff, the Headmaster of Durmstrang snorted.

"Harry, please move to the adjoining room", said a very nervous Ministry representative whose name Harry didn't remember. A second look told Harry that the man's greatest pleasure and misery were both gambling.

Harry walked over to the Goblet and pulled the Crimson Ruby out of the Goblet with a metallic clang and sheathed it once more, then walked into the adjoining room.

"Harry, do they want us back or something?" Fleur asked, her cultured Parisian accent taking on a questioning lilt.

"No, apparently, someone entered my name as a joke, and I ended up a Champion. I'll probably forfeit the tasks or something."

"What is this?" Krum shouted in Bulgarian, as the three Heads and the Ministry representative walked into the room.

"Will someone like to tell me why my name appeared?" Harry narrowed his eyes at Dumbledore and the Ministry representative.

"Now, now, there's no need to be so hasty, Harry!" the Ministry representative said jovially. "I'm sure everything will work out in the end!"

"Who are you?" Harry and Fleur asked him at the same time, with equal amounts of coldness.

"I'm Ludo Bagman, the Director of Magical Games and Sports", he declared, not realizing exactly how upset Harry was.

"By who are you, I meant 'Why are you an incompetent buffoon?' and 'Why are you smiling, arse?'" Fleur muttered in English. Everyone heard her, and Bagman winced.

"Fleur, there's no need to be impolite", Harry said. Fleur rolled her eyes at him.

"The first task will be on November Twenty-Fourth, nearly a month from now", Bagman continued on, unfazed. "There were once three tasks, but due to popular opinion, especially after all the spotlight on Rome Duels! we'll be having a few more tasks than that, including a student Duel-off, and-"

"That's quite enough, Ludo", said a ministry worker who had just shown up. "I am Bartemius Crouch, from the Department of International Magical Cooperation. I have looked into the problem at hand. Unfortunately, I must announce that Harry Potter has to compete."

"You're just announcing that because you feel like it?" Harry asked incredulously. "Can't you cancel it and redraw the names or something?"

"The Goblet can only be lit once a year", Dumbledore interjected smoothly.

Harry suddenly froze, staring at a little malicious black strand that was attached to Crouch's forehead. "He's under the Imperius, sir!"

Dumbledore instantly leapt into action and made several slashing motions at the area around Crouch, managing to sever the strands with his wand by using a Mind-Strengthening spell as well as an Enchantment Destabilizer. Crouch slumped to the ground.

"What seems to be the problem?" Moody asked, thumping into the room. He stared at the unconscious body of Crouch on the ground.

"He had been put under the Imperius curse, and has just managed to snap it. Take him to your office, will you, Alastor?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, I will do that", Moody said, looking very, very alarmed as he walked briskly away, levitating the body in front of him.

**Mangekyo**

"I believe Madame Maxime expects me to be at the carriages in the next three minutes, Harry. I'll see you soon", Fleur said, putting down the practice foil she had conjured and dispelling it with a wave of her wand. She walked off briskly after shooting Harry a final smile that most men would have described as heartstopping.

"My King and a Demon Hunter?"

"Hello, Lady Kingmaker", Harry said, his face heating up.

"Kneel."

Harry bit his lip and slowly sank to his knees, hating every moment.

"Excellent. You're obedient, if only because I'm more powerful than you are", she said, laughing. "It's a good trait for a king to have."

She ran her hands around his shoulder blades, and her face dipped in close. "Are you ashamed?" she asked. "Ashamed in the reaction I've caused? Oh Harry..."

Harry didn't say a word as she brushed the hair covering his right Eye out of the way.

"I'm not here to chat, or even to play games with you. There is someone... summoning demons in England. It's done in heavily warded atmospheres, so no one but a Fae could pick up on them, but the entity in question hasn't even thought of us, so there's no way we can influence him at all. Also, he's really evil, and we don't like that. If you see him, you'll know, because he has demons around him all the time, and the magical signatures are quite obvious."

She disappeared.

Harry thought of very many non-sexy thoughts to cool down, such as 'I think Voldemort might be summoning demons', or 'I just got entered into a tournament by someone who has seriously underestimated me, or has an ulterior motive that just requires my participation.' The embarrassment continued for several moments and he kicked a training dummy, shattering it with his Charge Step.

**Mangekyo**

"Add the nettles, Daphne."

"Yes, Harry."

"Stir eight times counterclockwise, Daphne."

"Yes, Harry."

There was a silence.

"Yes, Harry."

Despite himself, he smiled ever so slightly. He stopped abruptly.

"Add the roots, Daphne."

"Yes, Harry."

"Stir three times clockwise, Daphne."

She didn't respond this time, choosing to frown.

It was a game they played. Something akin to "who would crack first and beg for the other to join them". Harry was _so_ sure he was losing. He could barely hold back tears when Daphne walked away from him nowadays. It was a side effect of fixing up the last person who had been at Rome Duels - an Asian girl named Cho Chang. She cried a _lot_, and Harry wasn't quite prepared to use his Reality Marble again for a while.

"Bugger", he muttered, as his eyes teared up for seemingly no reason at all. "Just two weeks until the Task."


	39. The Eyes of the Dragon Subduing Quartet

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Actually, some of it may be original, but the idea would probably have been taken anyhow.

Author's Note: I don't know what happened. Did people not like the new chapter that much? I had less reviews than the immensely unpopular lemon chapter. T_T I hate to be a whore, but... that's sort of the currency on this website, and not being paid (lol?) is sort of disappointing, if not deadly. I won't be holding my story hostage. Daily updates stay daily.

Author's Note: I was reading Draco/OC stories for the LOLs. I ended up feeling sort of suicidal. I had no idea business cards and two rolls of masking tape could be used like that.

Anon: There's quite a bit from the F/SN, and Nasu-verse... it's just that... it's going to be integrated very well (hopefully), and you won't need to worry about it - it'll read like original stuff done right, well... it should...

**Mangekyo**

Harry didn't know what to think when he submitted his wand to Ollivander for 'Weighing', but it was obviously not what the old man expected.

He had been pulled out of potions class moments after he finished the second to last step in a Growth Solution for plants, and dragged by some sort of fanboy with a camera through the halls of Hogwarts.

Once he appeared, he was besieged by a reporter of some sort.

"Potter of Potter demands no press coverage under the Wizengamot Act Four of Nineteen Thirty Seven, Clause Three B."

The reporter sputtered. "You can't deny the public the truth."

"He just did", said Fleur. "What are you going to do about it? Are you going to drag his name through the mud? Oh right. You can't do that, can you? I speak exclusively to French newspapers", she said, turning up her nose.

"Wizengamot Act Thirteen of Nineteen Sixty Two. No foreigner entertained by the Department of International Magical Cooperation may be written about without consent."

"I'm Rita _Skeeter_!" the reporter cried out. "I'm the most successful journalist in Britain, you can't tell me what-"

"I am Potter of Potter. I will be levying charges against the Daily Prophet as the Head of my House if my name appears in the papers."

With those final words, Harry waited for Ollivander to pass over him.

"Do you polish your wand?" Cedric asked.

Harry looked at him as if he were flirting very uncomfortably with the younger boy, and Fleur giggled. "How would you like to polish it for me?" Harry deadpanned.

"Sure, give it here, Ha-"

"Please don't touch my wand."

Even Krum was chuckling now. Cedric turned bright red.

Ollivander examined the wands slowly, commenting about Cedric's polish, and the fact that Krum's had been made by his European mainland competitor.

"A core of Veela hair", Ollivander said, as he ran his hand over Fleur's wand, speaking about how it was temperamental.

"Eet wuz my grandmuzzer's", she said crossly. While her English accent had improved quite a bit during her time listening to Harry, whenever she was upset, it was colored once more by a heavy French accent.

"Yes, yes, of course."

Ollivander moved onto his wand and froze.

"You have incanted..."

"Over a million spells", Harry said.

Dumbledore stared at Harry sharply. Harry shrugged politely. "I had to learn the Stun arrays somehow", he said, smiling at the older man. The Legilimenic probe was fed an image of Harry practicing the casting of hundreds of spells at once day after day.

"You should take better care of your wand, Mr. Potter."

"I do. I just use it _very _often."

"I can see that", Ollivander said solemnly. "You'll do great things indeed."

**Mangekyo**

The morning of the First Task was slightly cold, but sunny. People cheered Harry on as he walked through the halls, attracting the attention of even more people.

"The First Task is Dragons", Cedric muttered to him as they passed each other in the halls. Harry nodded. Fleur had told him the day before, offhandedly.

"I know", Harry muttered back.

"How?" Cedric said, a little bit louder.

"Fleur told me. Maxime told her. I'm sure Kakaroff's told Krum. Apparently, it's a tradition to cheat as much as possible during this tournament", Harry said.

"Good luck, Harry!" came the voice of Susan Bones down the corridor.

"Bugger." Harry picked up his pace and his cloak swirled in a passable imitation of Severus Snape as he swept into the Entrance Hall.

"They're using the Quidditch Pitch", Fleur said, knowing that her rapid French had no bearing on Harry's understanding.

"That would be logical", Harry said, smiling, as the Champions (all four of them) walked out of the school. The Quidditch Pitch was mostly filled, with stragglers quickly moving towards their seats.

"Into the tents!" boomed the voice of Ludo Bagman, who Harry didn't like very much.

"We're not allowed to see each other combat the dragons, right?" Cedric Diggory said, mostly to himself.

"Well, that would defeat the purpose of this little game."

Bagman took out a small burlap sack, and held it out to Fleur.

"Eez zat chloroform I zmell?" she joked. Bagman giggled nervously.

"Pull something out of the bag", he said.

Fleur frowned, and drew out a replica of what Harry recognized as a Welsh Green.

Cedric went next, pulling out a bluish Swedish Short Snout.

Krum dipped his hand into the sack and pulled out the red Chinese Fireball.

Harry shook his head. "I don't want to see my Dragon yet. I'll face it as a true Champion!"

Everyone stared at him.

"Just kidding. I know it's a Hungarian Horntail."

Fleur stared at him in alarm. "Are you okay, Harry? You're very cheerful."

"Everyone's very cheerful, honestly", he said, referring to his Royal Eye's parsing of all the excitement in the air and feeding it to him bit by bit, though no one knew that.

"The crowd wants to see Harry Potter first", muttered some sort of attendant that Harry recognized as Percy Weasley. "When he was a First Year, everyone saw him duel Quirrell in the Entrance Hall and kill him. There's lots of expectations."

"Well, we'll give them what they want, right? They haven't moved the dragons into the arena yet anyway", said Bagman. "Harry, may I speak to you for a moment?"

Harry nodded, and Bagman dragged him off to the area behind the tent. "Do you have a plan, Harry?" Bagman asked him.

Harry stared at him. "Of course not. I just found out about the task, remember? I'm going to figure it out on the spot, because I'm a champion."

Bagman looked ready to keel over all of a sudden. "A-aim for its-"

"Mr. Bagman, I don't believe I need much help", Harry said, smiling.

"Harry, you must-"

"Ludo?" a voice shouted. "We're starting. Get over here, now!"

Harry smirked as Bagman walked away. "You really have to pay off your gambling debts, don't you?" he asked the space that the man had occupied.

There was a roar from the crowd, and Harry supposed the dragon had been brought out.

"Our Youngest Champion will be going first, against the Hungarian Horntail!" Bagman shouted, a note of despair in his voice.

Harry stepped towards the gate to the arena.

"You're an ugly bastard, eh?" he asked the Hungrarian Horntail looming over him conversationally.

The Dragon snarled.

"And young Harry Potter appears to be talking to his Dragon in English!" Ludo Bagman shouted into his Sonorus charm, and the crowd laughed, mostly good-naturedly.

In the Champion's tent, Fleur bit her lip, though she knew Harry would have less trouble than her.

"Egyptian Runes", Harry muttered under his breath. He began to trace the runes into the air slowly, sending off little flashes of light every single time he completed a series.

The dragon snarled, but couldn't come too close - they were on opposite sides of the Quidditch Pitch.

Dumbledore sat at the edge of his seat at the Judge's table, his hands shaking slightly. There was something so... _familiar_ about the way that Harry traced his Runes. Did it resemble the style of Tom? Or Gellert? Or Aberforth, perhaps? He decided it was very much like Aberforth's style. His brother had the same tight grip on his wand, and the same glint in his eye.

"Whatever young Harry Potter is doing, it doesn't appear to be working!" shouted Bagman, but people were not so sure now. Most of the older students recognized the individual runes Harry used - the Egyptian styles were easy to learn and relatively powerful, and most people had the most familiarity with them. Already, hundreds of people across all four Houses were racing to figure out what he had drawn.

Harry drew his final series, and then pointed his wand at the Hungrarian Horntail.

"Shock."

The series of floating runes, huge in size and shape and wrapped together in what was known as a Rosetta Bundle, lit up in a beautiful white glow, and suddenly the dragon froze in place, its eyes darting about.

"Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep."

The five supposedly different runic arrays all flared into an amazing show of power, and the dragon keeled over due to the combination of being battered by the Shock series, and the instant reversal in symptoms.

Harry walked over slowly and seemingly without caution, picked up the golden egg that he vaguely knew was important, and walked away. The dragon snored peacefully.

There was no small amount of cheering. Harry didn't feel very accomplished. It had been very easy to do - his knowledge of Runes was possibly greater than any living and dying being, due to the power of his Eyes.

He stared expectantly at the judges' table.

Albus Dumbledore held up a ten. Harry nodded. The Headmaster would appreciate a good rune series.

Madame Maxine held up a nine. Harry believed that it would be the standard response.

Igor Kakaroff held up a six, receiving boos from the audience.

The other two judges, Percy Weasley, who was covering in for the still-recovering Crouch, and Ludo Bagman, who was grinning like a loon, gave Harry tens.

"Viktor Krum!" Ludo Bagman announced.

Harry watched calmly on the sidelines as Krum's dragon was tethered to the Pitch. The red scales on the Chinese Fireball glinted in the sunlight.

Krum was clearly prepared. He snapped a very quick Y-class Homing spell towards the dragon's eye that seemed to be a darker variant of the Conjunctivitis curse that blinded its targets with an artful twist of his wand, and dodged the flailing dragon with commendable reflexes.

"Wow, that's pretty intense", Longbottom noted, his eyes wide. "It looks a bit more dangerous than your dragon, Harry. But that's because it's not sleeping, right?"

Harry smiled at him with no real humor in his visible eye.

"Cedric Diggory!"

"Is that a pack of Australian dingos?" Harry wondered, reevaluating McGonagall's Advanced Transfiguration workshops with a lot more respect. He had been invited once, but had declined politely, telling her that he had to finish penning his manuscript. McGonagall had been quite understanding, telling him that he could appear at any time he wanted to.

As the dingos danced in tandem with Cedric's thoughts, Harry found himself more and more inclined towards the Transfiguration workshops.

Cedric transfigured a stone on the ground into a huge length of... sticky rope of sorts, and fired it at the egg with the Homing Twist; he must have picked that up very recently, as it failed twice. He managed it on his next try, and Harry watched in amazement as the rope retracted with a clever use of a wandless Summoning charm that targeted pieces of the rope, causing it to curl up at his feet. Cedric dispelled the rope, and picked up the Golden Egg to loud cheers.

"Fleur Delacour!"

Harry sat up sharply, paying full attention now (though even when not paying attention he was still more observant than those who didn't have an Eternal Eye).

"Dans la lumière du matin, les cieux et les saints sourient." Fleur pointed her wand at the sky.

"What's she saying, Harry?" asked Neville.

"In the morning light, the heavens and the saints smile", Harry translated.

"Un millier de points de lumiere. Une brillante pensée: Châtier les impurs! Pour ce, je vous offre ma foi!" Fleur's wand darted back and forth as it wove an elaborate combination of swishes, flicks and sweeps, and a huge globe of light bloomed in the air.

"De ce qui rassemble la magie entre moi...et ma cible!" She pointed the wand straight at the Dragon, and the globe of light was absorbed by Fleur's wand.

"L'extérieur!" She drew her wand around in a circular moment, and a ray of pure light, with the radial thickness of a meter, lanced through the air and transfixed the Dragon, which howled shrilly and then fell to the ground with a smoking hole in its belly.

The majority of the students were shocked at the brutality.

"W-what was that? Is it dead?" Neville asked fearfully.

"That was a Depleted Five Line Aria that I helped her come up with against enemies that she didn't want to kill. The incantation is In the morning light, the heavens and the saints smile. A thousand points of light, one brilliant thought: Punish the Impure! For which I offer my faith, that which brings the magic between me and my target, the exterior. Utilizing a depleted last line drains it of the intent to kill, causing a deep but stable wound that will keep someone out of commission for a while, and is effective against... well, everything. The spell alignment is Hallowed, but the true nature can be summed up with the word 'parity', which puts every opponent it faces equal to any other, leaving the target defenseless."

Neville took several seconds to wrap his mind around it. "Wicked!" he exclaimed.

Fleur daintily picked up the egg and trounced off, waving at Harry in the stands, who responded by waving back.

"Oh I hate her", muttered Daphne. Hermione shook her head softly as they both stared unabashedly at Harry, who sat in front of them.


	40. The Eyes of She Who Fights Demons

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harry Potter related. I don't own the Sharingan, or any other bloodlines lifted from Naruto. I don't really own much, honestly.

Betas: Thanathos, Nlaw.

Author's Note: All I am, all that I ever was. Was hearing your perfect voice.. Eyes, they're all that I can see, dear reviewer. If I lay here on this story, if I just lay here (and give you daily updates), will you lie with me and just forget the world? Because, reviewer, I love _you_.

tjg: He's fixed a grand total of three people - and absorbed their trauma, Cho, Katie Bell and Anthony Goldstein. He didn't take in 200 consciousnesses. He's not a God. heh. Barty has Occlumency (obviously). Many of your ideas and suspicions have been thought of, and I can't confirm or deny them, but some of them will be effected, and the others won't.

**Mangekyo**

In truth, the strange shapes that Daphne created with her bare hands were very much like runes that were pale imitations of the Chinese Zodiac, she had discovered. The Greengrass family had been known for their powerful, dense magic and their knowledge of charms, not for their mastery of ancient magical languages.

"There's not enough in this language."

Hermione hooked her arm around Daphne's-

"Hermione, no. Move back. Back I say!" Daphne shouted urgently. Hermione backed away slowly as Daphne's palms glowed green.

"It's not a clasp, it's a clap. It's a clap!" she shouted. The silencing wards that Harry had drawn so many years ago kept the whole school from showing up at the abandoned classroom.

_Bap_!

Daphne instantly pushed her palms away as the green light grew in intensity and bathed a large portion of the room in an eerie, iridescent gleam.

Suddenly, the light exploded, sending her flying into Hermione, who had been standing behind her. Where Daphne had stood were thousands of weeds, flowers, and blades of grass that quickly spread about the entire room. Soon, small trees began to sprout, and coiling vines rippled everywhere.

And where the majority of the green light entered the stone floor, a single obsidian root sprouted from the ground, and a small blade of grass grew from it.

Daphne approached it slowly and stared at the obsidian root from all angles. Carved onto the east side of the root were the words 'Lord Greengrass, Two Hundred Years After the Accords at Bath. Here is the first Grass Blade of Greengrass, the Crest that will only present itself to one who is worthy of our House name.'

Abruptly, the first Grass Blade shot out of the Obsidian root and embedded itself into Daphne's chest, piercing her heart.

**Mangekyo**

Hermione didn't dare move Daphne. She didn't look harmed in the slightest, aside from the whole clutching-her-chest outfit, but Daphne's face was at peace, and she was breathing easily, the pumping of life-giving blood unaffected by the Grass Blade.

She was currently hard at work too and she was ashamed to admit that, since Daphne wasn't in critical condition, she didn't want to look away from her work.

"Re-research, the lifeblood of the Scholar..."

It was the only line she had at the moment, and it sat alone on a large piece of paper marred in inkspots.

She clutched an old, torn piece of parchment in her left hand.

"I am the Soul of the King. Misery is my curse and Magic is my creed", she muttered, pushing magic through her body.

"I have incanted no spells to i-isolate my reality, but have always walked another path. Transcendent of Emotion, Beyond the Samsara. M-m-many times I have opened my eyes to inju- _Hurk_", she suddenly stopped. A gunk of coagulated blood left her lips and dripped onto her robes.

_You've lied_, said a voice in her head. _You're suffering because it's impossible for you to use Harry's Reality_.

She struggled to her feet, her magic fluctuating wildly within her, recalling a line in a book.

_The Resonance against your soul provides for the most powerful Arias._

"I miss Harry", she said to Daphne, who was still in dreamland.

**Mangekyo**

"Again."

Fleur sent curse after curse at Harry, who easily caught each one on the tip of his wand. Twenty three high-powered curses later, she was entirely spent, barely able to stand.

"In order to catch a curse on the tip of my wand, I must exert an average of two point five four times as much power as you do. Please don't tell me you're giving up already. Again!" Harry's green eye stared Fleur down.

She grit her teeth, and several silver beams of Hallowed magic jumped from her wand.

Harry ducked smoothly, knowing from experience that he was incapable of catching such magic.

"Better. Now utilize the _entirety_ of your skill set. That's the only way you'll be capable of killing a demon."

Fleur began to transfigure and enchant huge carnivorous beasts with her wand as Harry watched.

"Now, an actual opponent won't wait for you like this", Harry admonished, as he began sending barrage after barrage of Stinging Hexes. Fleur wove around the spells with a sort of inhuman grace that brought a grim smile of satisfaction to Harry's face.

Harry began sending Transfigured paintballs at her, explaining as he fired. "Green touches you and you die. Red touches you and you writhe in pain. Blue touches you, and you can't use the bit it touches. If it touches your stomach or chest, you're dead."

Harry suddenly began firing the pellets twice as quickly. "You have two enemies now."

Fleur quickly discovered that when the green pellets touched her Transfigurations, they came apart in a wave of golden sparks.

"Five enemies."

Fleur continued enchanting and dodging even as Harry increased the amount of enemies to twenty eight.

Very suddenly, a red pellet splattered over her chest, and she found herself paralyzed. Another twenty pellets of various colors hit various points on her body and she fell over.

"You're dead."

"If I were to see twenty seven competent enemies, I'd run, Harry."

He made no response, but rather twirled his wand. A golden dome bloomed around him. "Shield of the Sun God. This is an Egyptian creation that will join any spells fired at you at the same time, while not changing your mobility. If there's a single spell headed towards you, it's quite useless, but when more than one impacts it at once, the spells will cancel one another out."

Fleur obediently waved her wand as Harry did, trying not to notice the chips and cracks on the boy's wand. While she dueled with him on a daily basis for hours now, he still had not seen fit to use any of the power that he undoubtedly had. Every movement was so natural and perfect, as if he'd expected everything she'd utilize to defeat him, and countered it hours before she had resorted to it.

The conversation that had been whispered between Harry and the wandmaker sent a chill through her. _You have incanted... over a million spells_. It was difficult to fathom _that_ much magic. She doubted a normal fourteen year old boy had enough magic to incant more than twenty spells a day, but Harry was capable of casting thousands of spells in a mere handful of hours.

"The Dueling Challenge is coming up", Harry suddenly said.

"Yes, it is a pity that we will not be allowed to compete." Fleur sniffed.

"It will be decidedly lackluster. What's good to watch in a competition of schoolchildren?"

"You are a student too." Fleur smirked. She snapped a curse at him. Harry ducked out of the way.

"Try your Allure."

"It never works on you", she muttered. "It barely works on anyone, except for idiots."

"I'm sure you can train it to work more effectively. Just give it some more work. Everything can be overcome with the correct amount of dedication."

Fleur pushed her magic through her pores, and Harry turned a more critical Eye on the strands of magic reaching at him.

"Your magic needs to be more... dense", he finally decided. He sat in contemplation for a moment.

"The Potter Blood. We are blessed to have magic that is far more... packed together than that of an ordinary witch or wizard's. There is a genetic anomaly that allows our magic to fold within itself. I suppose I will gift you a vial of my blood for Christmas, as it might very well save your life."

"Blood magic", she whispered. "Good Lord..."

"Are you familiar with Nordic rune series? If not, you will find that Blood based magic works spectacularly well with those runes for beginners." Harry began drawing runes on a permanently conjured piece of parchment. Fleur traced over them with the back end of a pen.

**Mangekyo**

"Let's pretend that you never picked a wand, Fleur. What would you do to kill someone more skilled than you, larger than you, stronger than you, and capable of throwing Hellfire around?"

"Deception."

"Can you deceive the most evil and cunning of entities in the world? Before you panic, I haven't summoned a demon. This is an Anchored Runic Illusion Arrangement, jokingly called 'aria' by those without the skill to produce a proper Ten-Lined. Remember, spells will not affect it. It'll all be in your head, so if it slices you open, you'll feel like death."

Fleur watched in horror as a faux demon grew.

"Lord upon the Glorious Golden throne, guide my blade", she prayed.

The thin rapier jumped forward as the demon lumbered forward with far more grace than its bulky form belied.

A claw caught it easily and tossed her against the far wall, then fired a huge gout of fire at her.

Fleur picked herself up. _This is in my head. I can go on forever_.

She launched off of the ground, skating on the air above the ground, twisting and turning to avoid the hellfire. Harry stood in the back, judging her silently.

A small cut appeared on her left shoulder where the claws had grazed her. It burned with sulphur and possibly poison. There were many species with such abilities.

_This is the path of Misery, of God-become-flesh_, Harry's voice echoed in her ear as the boy assumed an elaborate twirl that she emulated perfectly.

The demon's claw flew to the point in its chest where Fleur had pierced through, but she had danced out of the way already.

_The way of Death is one that we walk to protect those who can't or won't._ She crouched, parrying an errant claw, and threw herself into a slide, passing the demon on its right side, and skewering it through the thigh.

The Demon howled in pain even as Fleur drove it deeper and used the momentum to throw herself in the other direction. There was an almighty squelch as the rapier pulled out of the leg wound. Blood was jetting profusely through both wounds, and the demon seemed to shrink into itself defensively.

_As you bring your blade down on one that defies you passively and actively, remember to speak to what you believe, for without it, we are lost._ Fleur executed a spinning vault over the demon, which was crouching, and drove the point of her blade into the back of the demon's head.

_Thump_. The demon fell to the ground, destroyed. It slowly turned to ash.

"Congratulations. I thought I had to jump in and save you several times", remarked Harry.

"Save me? It was an illu-" Fleur looked down and gave the Demonic Dust a sniff. "Illusions don't have magical scents." Her eyes widened, and she glared at Harry. "You utter bastard!"

"Congratulations, Fleur, on killing your first Greater Demon."

Despite herself, she smiled when she stared at the small pile of bone-white ash. Then her face took on the same color as the remains of the entity she had destroyed.

"You summoned a Greater Demon", she whispered accusingly.

"Actually, this one was wandering around, killing things in the Forbidden Forest. I entrapped it within a Six Point Star of David, with the traditional Aramaic script and all. I thought you'd want the experience."

Fleur shook her head. "You're insane. Utterly insane."

For just a split second, Fleur thought a flash of sorrow and slight confusion had passed Harry's face, but the moment was over before she could tell if it was just a trick of the light.


	41. The Eyes of A Man Masquerading as Two

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harry Potter related. I don't own the Sharingan, or any other bloodlines lifted from Naruto. I don't really own much, honestly.

Author's Note: Not Beta'd. By the way, I'm holding on a rope, got me ten feet off the ground. *looks down* *turns white* *falls* *splatters*

**Mangekyo**

"Why has there been no progress, Harry?"

Fleur had left for the day, and Harry was sitting crosslegged on the floor, his back taut, Sumerian Runic Arrays flashing as he drew them leisurely.

The glyph for 'peace' glowed lightly and Harry got over the irrational fear and resentment that always came when Scathach appeared.

"I've caught and killed a demon in the Forbidden Forest. It leads me to believe that someone in the school might be summoning it, but I haven't seen any sort of demonic taint from anyone, save Fleur, who kills them often."

"Perhaps she is the one summoning them?"

"No. There was genuine horror in her mannerisms when she believed that I had summoned the one she killed."

"You seem to underestimate the gravity of this situation, Harry."

"It's just a bunch of weak demons", Harry muttered.

Scathach slammed the back of her hand into his chest and he flew out of the runic circle. He had seen it coming, but he didn't know what kept him from dodging or blocking it. Perhaps it was fear of worse retaliation.

In an instant, she was upon him, ripping at his clothing and choking him.

"Stop", Harry said. His tone would have been no different if Ronald Weasley was attempting to begin a food fight.

He tried his best not to feel anything as the very, very old fae in the body of a twelve year old took him forcefully, but the shame and self-loathing in his eyes were obvious. Harry grunted as he came and repaired his clothing.

"Tell me you don't like it, and I will stop", Scathach said earnestly, the cuteness on her face a twisted caricature of innocence.

Harry turned away. "I don-"

He stopped abruptly.

"You don't? Why do you let me continue though? Why won't you shy away?"

Harry wanted to tell her that it felt good, better than anything he had before, and for a moment, the Misery in the world was sheathed in the perfect dream of Avalon, but he knew she had already always known.

He hated his Eyes.

**Mangekyo**

"Mr. Potter, stay behind after class", came the crisp voice of Professor McGonagall as Harry worked on his eighth Treatise, entitled 'Answering Gamp with Alchemy'.

"Of course, Professor."

Hermione shot him a longing glance as she left the classroom, and Harry reminded himself to check up on her and Daphne, then finished his sentence and rolled his parchment up.

"Professor."

"Mr. Potter." McGonagall took a breath. "I heard that you had asked Diggory about Advanced Transfiguration. I daresay you're impressed now." She gave a rare smile. "Now, as I've said, you are perfectly welcome, along with any Seventh Year in the school. What I must inform you of, however, is-"

"Hold it, Professor. On the topic of Transfiguration, I would I like for you to take this compilation first. It's a joint work between myself, Hermione Granger and Daphne Greengrass of Slytherin."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter", she said, looking with undisguised glee at the very, very long roll of parchment. "Now, onto the main course, as they say. You are to participate in a Ball."

"A Ball? As in... dancing?" Harry frowned. He didn't know how to dance, though he supposed he could solve the problem by sitting in a club for several hours.

"It's on Christmas Day. I hope it doesn't interfere with your plans." Her lips quirked. "You will be required to dance the first dance. I suggest that you ask someone as soon as possible, though you will likely have no trouble in acquiring a date. I'll be announcing it in class tomorrow."

"Thank you for the warning, Professor. I hope you enjoy Hermione's tautology tables on permanently conjuring vitamins."

"I will, Mr. Potter. Thank you for allowing me unfettered access to your collective research."

They smiled at each other, and Harry left the room.

**Mangekyo**

"What's wrong with her?"

"I d-don't know, Harry."

"Tell me _everything_", he hissed.

"Well, she was chanting, as usual. Then she told me to get back, and it sort of exploded. She walked up to this black root that sprouted, and something shot out of it, and impaled her. She's stable and all."

"May I enter you?" Harry asked.

"Wh-"

"Your _mind_." Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Oh", Hermione replied eloquently, suddenly looking very interested in the floor. Her cheeks had reddened.

"Legilimens", Harry incanted softly as he tilted Hermione's head towards him.

Several moments later, Harry stared at Hermione accusingly. "You let her _lay_ there for two days? You tried powering my Reality Marble?"

Hermione started crying. "I-I'm sorry. I desperately wanted to-"

"Your Aria will never Resonate with your soul if you force it, Hermione. A better way to know would be to stare in a conjured mirror, full to the brim with your magic, and contemplating your existence. There is no guarantee that you'll form this fabled Reality Marble."

"I know I can", she muttered, tears dripping out of her eyes in a veritable flood.

"There is also no reason to neglect your lover, who is in a coma, for it."

Hermione's sobs grew louder.

"I am the Soul of the King, the man who knows the thoughts of every subject. The man who knows the misery of every soul. Legilimens!" Harry's wand snapped at Daphne in an artful twirl that professionals would kill to imitate. Harry had taken it from a Day Block Two Mind Mage at Rome Duels.

The first thing he noticed was the overabundance of trees in a clearing.

"Is this some sort of mental materialization? How fucked up is your mind right now, Daphne?"

"Harry?" came a soft echo.

"Yes. It's me. I'm here to pull you out of this, because you've been stuck in here for nearly two days."

"That's impossible! I came in a minute ago."

"Perception-based. Time is actually passing at an accelerated rate. We have been in here for over an hour."

"How do I get out?"

"Easy. Make a wake up button with your mind." Daphne stared at him incredulously. "I'm kidding, Daphne. That only works in bad fiction that people post on the muggle internet."

"What's that?"

"Never mind. Know that you wish to be awake, and you shall be. There's nothing I can do for you, except tell you that you really, really have to wake up. Two hours have passed. I suspect Hermione will be calling for teachers now. I must protect the secrecy of my Eyes. They will undoubtedly examine me if they show up."

Harry disappeared. "Goodnight, Daphne. Travel well."

"Bugger", Daphne muttered. "How much mental strength is required for this?"

She began chanting to calm herself. Soon, she slid into blissful oblivion.

"Why are there things growing around her?" Harry muttered.

"She's probably Chanting again", Hermione decided.

Harry stared at the now-snoring girl, and realized that the magic she was generating wasn't quite as dense as it had been.

"Wake up!" he roared.

Daphne jolted awake. "My God, Harry!" she screeched.

**Mangekyo**

"'Arry!" Fleur shouted over the din. She was surrounded by boys. "Save me, Harry!" she shouted in French.

"I take it they found out about the Yule Ball before the Hogwarts students did?" Harry stared at all the boys from Durmstrang.

"Go to the Ball with me!" said an uncomfortably close Susan Bones in his ear.

"Professor Dumbledore announced it in the Great Hall moments ago", moaned Fleur in exasperation. "Why? Oh Lord, what has your servant done to deserve this?"

Harry laughed, and then blanched. It appeared that a besotted Ronald Weasley had approached her. He was standing much closer to her than her other admirers, who were trying to be gentlemanly.

"G-go to the Ball with me?" Ron spit out, finally, even as Fleur's eyes turned harsh.

"Yes", she said, nodding. Ron looked overcome with emotion for a moment. Then Fleur's eyes narrowed in a remarkably similar fashion to Harry's. "If you hit puberty between now and Christmas."

"Hey, don't be mean, Fleur. I'm sure someone else will go to the Ball with you, Weasley. Just have to ask around", Harry said weakly.

Ron nodded and walked off.

"Will you go to the Ball with me, Harry?"

"Perhaps as friends. I hold no romantic interest in you, Fleur."

They smiled at each other and Harry returned to his table.

"You're going with Fleur", Hermione stated, her voice strangely high-pitched.

"Yes."

"Fleur Delacour. I see." Hermione muttered.

Harry looked at her strangely, knowing exactly what she was implying, and not liking it.

"How's your Aria coming along?"

"Oh, are you talking to me now?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "There's no need to be _catty_."

"I'm not a cat. Remember what you said I was? I'm a- I'm a- rap- I'm-" She burst into tears and tore out of the Great Hall.

Harry blinked several times, thoroughly exasperated.

**Mangekyo**

"What's her problem?" Harry fumed. While he had known exactly why Hermione was upset, and comprehended the situation fully through experience and latent Legilimency, it made him no happier about the situation.

"You're being really vicious today, Harry", Fleur commented as she picked herself up again from the ground as a colored pellet nailed her between the eyes. Harry had charmed her with Imperviousness, but it still hurt slightly to be hit. It was also very weird when paint slid off her eyes.

Harry growled. "Dance of the Settling Dusk, Finnish variation!" he barked.

Fleur waved her wand in a thirty two part sequence that would add a lethal amount of magic to any spell she threw.

"Faster!" he boomed, as she threw a Wide-Area Bludgeoneer at him, which would have been very fatal to as many as twenty five Wizards.

Harry's Charge Step tore through it like candy.

"That's one of James Evans' spells!" said a very surprised Fleur.

"Yes, it is. It took me very long to learn it", said Harry. "It is... very difficult."

"Why would he teach you one of his trademarks?" she wondered.

"Because it's not a trademark. Other people are capable of it, like Nicholas Flamel, for example."

"Of course Lord Flamel would be capable of it", said Fleur. "Can you teach me it?"

Harry paused, remembering that the Potter Bloodline allowed him to channel fantastic amounts of magic to his muscles without permanent damage. The way Flamel circumvented it was by the use of pressure, and not direct magic. Magic could repair compression-based damage, but would have to overcome the Charge Step itself to heal Harry if his Bloodline ever stopped functioning.

"I am not very good at it", said Harry after a long silence.

She glared. "That's just not true!" It was clearly equal to an Advanced Wand Sequence, most of which took years to learn. She had been trying the Finnish variation of the Settling Dusk for nearly four terms at Beauxbatons, and she still had trouble with the majority of the back-twists. Harry, who had never heard of it, performed it perfectly on his fourth try, earning nearly a week of stony silence from her, but seemed unable to channel magic effectively with it.

"It's a Hallowed sequence!" she shouted suddenly. "It was good enough to beat Hallowed Magic, which is supposed to be unblockable!"

Harry turned away.

"You're hiding something from me. You've been hiding lots of things, actually. You appear to know every one of that man's tricks. You duel like a Sorcerer. You're clearly capable of defeating any teacher hands down. You know what I think, Harry? After two months of knowing you, watching your movements and mannerisms. I think you _are_ James Evans!"

Harry's face turned white.

"Keep it down!" he muttered, though Silencing Wards were in effect.

"I was right!" she crowed. "Fleur Delacour was right!" she shouted, suddenly jubilant.

"So, are you going to tell me why you had to _figure it out_?" hissed Harry, remembering the comprehensive set of Runic Arrays he had surrounded the room with.

Fleur wasn't listening. "I know James Evans! And he's a fourteen year old boy!" she shouted. "Can you show me the Sand Demon? I want to try killing it."

"I don't doubt that you can", said a resigned Harry. "Please, however, refrain from announcing my other identity to everyone in the Great Hall. Or anyone in general."


	42. The Eyes of Hermione Granger

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harry Potter related. I don't own the Sharingan, or any other bloodlines lifted from Naruto. I don't really own much, honestly.

Author's Note: This chapter is number 42. This chapter brings meaning into your life.

**Mangekyo**

The cold December wind had begun to slowly freeze the Hogwarts Lake, and they were practicing household charms on Conjured objects. Two groups that totalled nearly fifty people watched them from a distance, giggling loudly and pointing as Harry proved that chairs could, in fact, dance Irish jigs.

"Would you like to go to a bar with me?" asked Fleur suddenly. "I would like a drink."

"Wh-what?" Harry sputtered. He had not been looking at her, and was therefore unable to predict the question. He quickly amended that. "How does London sound?"

"Will I get to see the infamous Space-Time Divinity that the papers speak of?" she wondered, smiling.

Harry groaned. "You didn't really want a drink. You wanted to see more of my skill set."

"No. I do want a drink. Let's lose our...", her lips quirked as Harry shook his head. She gave another glance at the group of people conspicuously placed several hundred meters away from them.

Harry and Fleur suddenly dashed into the Forbidden Forest, laughing.

There was no small amount of panic.

"Mangekyo Sharingan", he whispered. "Kamui."

He shut his eyes, and quick wandwork transfigured their clothes into more muggle attire.

"I look like a tramp, Harry", Fleur complained. He had turned her robes into a minidress that barely reached beyond her hips.

She lengthened the skirt by several inches.

"I don't see the difference." Fleur rolled her eyes, and they ducked into a bar together.

"What do I order?" muttered Harry.

"A Cosmopolitan, please", Fleur said, flashing her smile, a bit of cleavage, and a lot of Allure at the bartender.

"What she's having", said Harry. He received several very odd looks. "Err. I mean. A pint of lager."

Fleur giggled, shaking her head. "Didn't you tell me you were in London often?"

"Not in bars", he continued to mutter.

**Mangekyo**

"I don't think I've ever been drunk before", said Harry.

"You don't sound very drunk", said Fleur, who was handling her alcohol much better.

Harry wanted to tell her that his eye had become the equivalent of a second brain, analyzing things that he was now incapable of, but he didn't.

"We'll go back. Kamui."

They reappeared in Harry's room on the third floor, where Hermione and Daphne were dueling.

There was a long, stony silence before Daphne's wand slipped from her grasp and clattered to the ground.

"I t-think I need some air", she said, walking out of the room quickly. Hermione followed.

Fleur and Harry stared at each other for a moment. She took note of his expression, and chose to leave.

"I'm going to go back to the carriages, Harry."

Harry stood alone. The blue and gold of his left eye swirled over the Transfigured objects in the room, permanently fed by Hogwarts and little runes etched on them.

The flames shot out of his right Eye with nearly incomprehensible speed and incinerated a chair that he had liked. He then smashed a flimsily conjured table open with his bare hands for good measure, not even noticing the magic he poured into his muscles.

**Mangekyo**

_Left._

_Right._

_Back twirl._

_Crouch, slash._

_Stand, flick._

_Spin, zigzag._

"Scholar. My judgment resonates with my soul within the sound of Ideological Revolution."

_Step back, Moscow Jag_.

"Books and Cleverness, my Calling."

_Twirl, Ensouling Twist._

"Will never run in the face of Adversity. Will always Know my Enemy."

_Bring back hand._

"Will always Know myself."

_Wand to floor_.

"Reality is to be studied prior."

_Wand pointed at target._

"Prior to being lived."

_Wand to the sky_.

"Lost works speak to me."

For just a moment, she was in a magnificent, circular room with thousands of-

And then it was gone.

Hermione wept as her magic gave out, and her world dissolved in front of her.

**Mangekyo**

"This duel is terrible", Fleur remarked.

Harry's lips turned upwards slightly as a Hogwarts Student failed in casting a low level shield charm and the Durmstranger managed to send him crashing in the opposite wall (to which Dumbledore had applied a cushioning charm).

The makeshift Dueling Pit was quite professionally done, as it had been in the middle of the Quidditch field. Of course, Albus Dumbledore had over a hundred years of experience to draw on. His homemade pit had I.C.W. approved traction and a larger width for the less experienced students that were to duel.

Dumbledore wasn't feeling so good, it seemed. The man's face was grave when he realized that everyone below their sixth year who hadn't been a part of McGonagall's Advanced Transfiguration workshops, or Flitwick's Charms Club were getting their asses handed to them.

The Pit-wide Sonorous charm was sending some very interesting curses that were definitely not of a magical origin at the crowd.

"You wouldn't be so smug if Harry Potter was allowed to duel!" exclaimed George Weasley, who was lying on the ground, Petrified from the neck down.

"I must confess, Dumbledore. I am quite curious about the dueling talent of Harry Potter", said Igor Kakaroff.

"He is a champion. Unfortunately, he is bound by-"

"Rules that we have created, and not the Goblet. He shall do fine if he is truly a champion!" sniffed Madame Maxime.

"What do you think, my boy?" Albus asked Harry.

"Well, it won't be quite fair for me to duel students", said Harry, earning stares of outrage from the other two Heads.

"And why would that be so, Mr. Potter?" Kakaroff wondered derisively.

"He outdueled the Defense Teacher who was possessed by a spectre of the Dark Lord in his First Year. When Minerva and Filius failed", said Snape, feeling _very_ proud of the young man all of a sudden.

Of course, there was a contemplative silence after that. Everybody knew that Severus Snape did not lie or embellish the truth.

"Easily solved. I will chose someone within the student body to duel in my stead. Someone who wouldn't have picked up her wand without urging." He fired off a Legilimenic message as he met a pair of eyes.

"Any challengers?" shouted Ludo Bagman over the crowd's roar. The seventh year Durmstrang student, who had been the dueling champion in the infamous Dark Arts class turned a predator's eye on the crowd.

_When you land, you push your Magic into your legs and feet_.

_Thup_.

Harry smiled. All the little habits he had stolen from Aoko Aozaki were so _cool_. He frowned. Cool and unnecessary. He shared the blessing of huge amounts of magic with the faux-redhead, but...

"Begin!"

"She is very pretty, no?" Viktor Krum asked. Harry nodded absentmindedly.

A burst of silver goop that Harry recognized as an Everburning Charm left Hermione's wand. It wasn't a Dark curse, but rather, an infamous tool on the Dueling Circuit. Nearly four hundred years previously, Havelock Sweeting, the Carrier of the First Blaze, who had deemed himself unworthy to use the Legacy of Merlin, had invented it as an imitation of the Fire of Judgment.

"Protego Funditi. Praesidium Clypeus!" The Durmstrang student knelt on the ground, drawing magic from the Ley Line that Hogwarts rested on to fuel his shield.

Hermione continued the spell for nearly two minutes. The area around the Durmstrang student was charred beyond belief, and the innocent looking silver goop surrounded the boy in large concentric circles.

"You know, if I hit you with any curse, and you fall over, you'll be immolated", Hermione said conversationally.

There was so much goop everywhere.

Hermione began firing Piercing Charms with a Lubeck Twist, designed to explode on contact with shields. It appeared that the Durmstrang student recognized it, and began parrying them with his wand, which had been wrapped in a layer of Deflection.

Hermione threw her arm back suddenly, and jerked her hand as if she held a recoiling gun. A sludge-brown spell jumped out of her wand.

"The Wrecking Ball charm!" Flitwick exclaimed. A pair of banishing charms were torn through by the charm in a mere moment of resistance, and it slammed into a hastily conjured Bunker Shield, which earned applause from the audience. Harry was forcibly reminded of just why the skill of 'James Evans' had risen to astronomical fame.

The Bunker Charm had been a featured spell in the Daily Prophet for nearly two days, with experts weighing in on its effectiveness in comparison to Dumbledore's Mastershield, and Flamel's Pressure Push. It was concluded to be an imperfect Defense, but something that every aspiring high-ranked Wizard should learn.

The Durmstrang student then began the "Evans Elemental Chain" as Harry looked on in horror. Three of the twists were done in a way that killed efficiency. "My my. I recognize that", said Dumbledore with a short laugh.

Hermione countered admirably. Elemental spells were hard to diffuse, but this specific chain had been used against her more than ten times, with far more effectiveness.

"How is she blocking that?" a Beauxbatons student next to Fleur wondered. "It was rated eight out of ten for 'Unblockability' in the papers."

"You shouldn't always believe what the papers tell you", muttered Fleur.

Harry scoffed himself. "There are counters to each spell fired. They're just... rather unwieldy. Hermione's doing very well."

"Oh is that her name?" wondered Krum.

Harry nodded absentmindedly once more. "Observe her feet."

Fleur gave a closer look, as did McGonagall, who had cast a Telescopic Charm on her glasses.

"Lightning! That's the Norwegian variation for the Nordic Rune of Lighting", exclaimed an excited Professor Babbling.

"Game over", decided Harry.

"Pado wie beongae!" Hermione shouted. Several seats away, Moody twitched in memory of the spell.

Hermione had modified the spell to loose a torrent of water at her opponent.

A freezing charm hit the wave, but it surged forward at the boy. The rune under Hermione's feet lit up, and the boy fell to the ground, convulsing, as he was nearly electrocuted.

"That's a Fourth year?" Kakaroff wondered in slight awe.

"Yes. Hermione is one of my better students", said Flitwick.

"Any challengers?" Bagman shouted.

"I!" shouted a girl from Beauxbatons.

"That's Margaret Maynard. I can tell you positively that she would have taken the seat of the Champion had I not been here."

The girl looked somewhat similar to Fleur, though she sported a light brown mane rather than the distinctive platinum blond. Her features were softer and less beautiful, but there was a quiet strength in her motions as she walked down to the Dueling Pit.

"What is she capable of?"

"Lots of Dark magic", Fleur said solemnly. "Her skill in Transfiguration is fantastically renowned."

"Hermione doesn't know much Dark magic, but she's published in Transfiguration. it will be interesting to watch this duel. Dark magic has some advantage over the majority of the Elemental spells she knows."

"Begin!"

"Keturunan Penyepit!" A dark blue streak fell from the heavens at Hermione, who dodged it easily. It crashed into the space that she had vacated, then jumped into the air again, posed to squash her, or rip her in half.

Albud Dumbledore frowned. "The Malaysian Devil's Claw. What on earth do you have in your library, Olympe?"

"Please", she sniffed. "Your library is far darker."

"We have a Restricted Section", commented McGonagall.

Hermione had narrowly dodged the spell again. The other girl was firing spells sporadically, and it was clear that she was using the majority of her concentration in an attempt to contain the spell.

"Stupefy!" Hermione shouted. Dumbledore and Harry both narrowed their eyes. Dumbledore, because he knew it was clearly not a Stunner, and Harry, because he knew exactly what it was.

The Skin Shredding Curse tore through the girl's flimsy shield (which had been created in hope of using the bare minimum needed to stop a Stunning Spell.

When the curse hit her, the girl's eyes widened, and she immediately began the countercurse, limiting the damage to a mutilated arm. The Malay Devil's Claw had vanished.

She glared at Hermione, and then began to conjure at a dizzying rate. Like Cedric, it seemed that she favored Animal Transfigurations, and pair of hyenas burst out of the tip of her wand, earning cheers from the crowd.

Hermione was, too, a Transfiguration expert. Her wand danced to the tune of her magic as blocks of stone appeared in front of her and flew in formation at the other girl.

"Amazing. Fourteen meter-wide cubes of... is that sandstone?"

"Yes. But it is more than that. Observe."

Several high powered Blasting Curses blew the blocks back into Sand, but in doing so, detonated the magic within the blocks, which washed over the sand.

"Is that the Pain of Sand that James Evans used against you?" asked a shocked Kakaroff.

"I'm pretty sure the spell is of the Karahalios family and not the so-called One-Hit Wonder", said Harry. Fleur giggled.

"You don't like James Evans much, do you, Harry?" asked Cedric, who had been quite quiet. Fleur giggled some more as Harry frowned.

"Rihai jadu!" Maynard screamed to the heavens as her wand arced. The Hindi Spell Release sequence was notoriously hard to perform and even more difficult to learn.

Harry nodded in appreciation. "Easily a Mage-class spell, that one." The Pain of Sand fell apart.

"Pity that it wouldn't have worked on the Anchored Runic Script", Dumbledore smiled.

"The Blaze seemed to have been sufficient", said Madame Maxime, with an indulgent smile.

"It is a pity you didn't turn the Blaze on Evans."

"I don't know, Igor. It might not have even worked. He lasted far longer against Nicholas than I have ever. There are few men with the power of the One-Hit Wonder."

"You are too modest, Dumblydoor", Maxime decided, her accent showing prominently.

Both of the girls were quite exhausted. Hermione leaned on a block of stone, and Maynard was gasping for breath.

"She should have lasted longer", Harry sneered. "After so much training..."

"I don't think she was at a hundred percent when she began fighting, Harry."

"I know, Fleur, but-"

Hermione suddenly stood and smiled, looking to have found her second wind. The other girl stared at her in disbelief.

"Ahh, that's another Evans imitation, isn't it?" said Dumbledore. "It is what defeated me."

Hundreds of projectiles rained on the hapless Beauxbatons student. She threw the majority of her magic into a bunker shield.

Hermione was not Harry, and was thus unable to sustain nearly thirteen minutes of Projectile Rain. In fact, she strained to maintain thirteen seconds, while Harry shook his head.

"She just needs a little more magic, and the latent power of the Transfigurations would be fed back to her in a looping manner. Sweeting's Third Law. He was surprisingly powerful for someone so humble."

"Indeed. Sweeting was quite a formidable duelist. He had to protect the Blaze without using it, after all", said Dumbledore. He began expounding on several of the finer points of Sweeting's work, engaging the majority of the adults and Harry in the conversation as Hermione and Margaret traded spells.

Maynard had a rather crazed look on her face at the moment, in contrast with the cold, intelligent determination that had been etched on both their faces earlier.

"She's been Infected", Harry pointed out blandly.

"Oh, that's not good, is it?" said Dumbledore. "Should we end the duel? My student might get hurt."

"No", came the dual response from the other two Heads.

"I would like to see where this goes", said Kakaroff. Krum bit his bottom lip, looking ready to contradict his Professor, but looked away quickly when Kakaroff shot him a warning glance.

The spellfire had left the Dueling Pit charred.

"They're trying to kill each other, Professors", said Harry.

"Don't be dramatic, Mr. Potter", said Kakaroff, who was staring at the dueling girls with a sort of eye that brought blue to Harry's left eye.

"If this isn't ended, I will take it upon myself to do so", he stated plainly. Even as the words left his lips, a Disarming Charm struck Hermione, and Maynard's wand rose for the kill.

Harry roared in fury. "Mille libras ad omnem Daemonum!" A jet of intense red light hit the Runic Ward surrounding the dueling arena and it shattered into a million pieces.

A black spell raced towards a downed Hermione.

_If you can hear me now, Sword that Chooses... What I would do for your power._

Once more, words rang in his mind and aloud, words that he thought he'd never speak again.

"Fly, Caliburn!"

Harry zipped through the air at speeds that were impossible for the majority of humans to perceive, and Harry, strengthened by the Charge Step, batted away the black ball of light Maynard had conjured with his left hand.

He stood over a downed Hermione, staring at the crowd. Maynard's madness had cleared, and the sheer amount of surprise and disbelief perceived by his Eye was...

Dumbledore looked straight into Harry's uncovered Eye.


	43. The Eyes of Albus Dumbledore

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harry Potter related. I don't own the Sharingan, or any other bloodlines lifted from Naruto. I don't really own much, honestly.

Author's Note: It is important to note that while everyone has a Soul Aria, the changes of it manifesting as a Reality Marble is roughly eight in twenty billion, if you're checking simultaneously over the space of eight thousand years.

**Mangekyo**

To Harry's surprise, Dumbledore didn't look too surprised. He must have put it together like Fleur did.

Instead, the message that came across the Legilimenic wave was, the others must not know.

Harry nodded once, and Dumbledore drew a wand out. To Harry's Kaleidoscope, the wand had been intensely powerful. He only realized the nature of the power when his Eternal Eye scanned it. He realized that Dumbledore had not been using this artifact when he was at Rome Duels.

It was the magic of Fate. Strands of magic that could only be described as Kaleidoscopic attached it to the earth, and for a moment, Harry realized that each strand was connected to every single person in the arena. It must have been a sort of latent effect, as none had been powered by Dumbledore.

Dumbledore and Harry spoke in unison.

"I am the Soul of the King."

"Righteousness is the birthright of the World!"

"Misery is my curse and magic is my creed!"

"I rule not because I am suited for it, but because others are less so!"

"Strengthen my mind, my body, my soul for what is to come!"

"May the Light guide this Servant's hand to protect and not to harm! Attend me, First Blaze!"

"Obliviate!" they both cried at once, Harry's eyes spinning, and Dumbledore's wand twirling.

A royal purple light intersected with Dumbledore's pure white glow and bathed over the entire audience. Harry specifically chose to salvage the memories of his friends, while Dumbledore did a blanket wipe.

Harry nodded at Dumbledore, whose eyes held the question of 'who should do the fabrication'.

Dumbledore's voice boomed over the crowd. "You were watching Ms. Granger and Ms. Maynard duel when Ms. Maynard hit Hermione with a stunner. The barrier was deactivated, and Harry Potter ran to Ms. Granger's side, along with several of her friends."

Harry quickly moved back to his seat, carrying Hermione. Fleur, who was not affected, levitated Margaret Maynard back into her seat.

Harry's wand dropped in tandem with Dumbledore's.

"Now, this has been a resounding success!" came Dumbledore's voice over the crowd. "It pleases me to know that there are so many talented duelists between our schools. Now, everybody, to the Great Hall! The House Elves have prepared a huge feast!"

"Mr. Potter, Ms. Delacour and... Ms. Greengrass. If you will", Dumbledore whispered.

**Mangekyo**

"I seek a partnership, Mr. Potter", Dumbledore said as Harry and his closest friends sat in conjured armchairs.

Harry's wand was between his fingers, but as a show of trust, Dumbledore's wand was back in the folds of his robes. His action was not lost on the boy.

"If you had come forward earlier as James Evans, I confess that I would have been both surprised and fearful of what you might, or what you have, become. However, I am pleased to say that I believe you will never "go Dark", as they say."

"How can you be sure of it, Professor?"

"I know that you've been a student of the Dark Arts and Runic Arrays since your First Year. I myself was a devout student of both in my youth. As we age, we specialize, and I believe that will not be your specialty. The corruption of the Dark Arts is known to all, and while you have tackled them with a fervor that only a young man could possess, you have become stronger for it. Your Occlumency is immense in power, undoubtedly augmented by the Sword That Chooses. It is a small wonder that my mentor never lost his superior smirk the last time we met." Dumbledore smiled, indicating he wasn't truly insulting the man.

"You speak of Lord Flamel, do you not?" Fleur asked.

"Yes, Miss Delacour. Nicholas Flamel was my mentor for nearly twelve years before I took a post here at Hogwarts. It is a weakness of all great men, the need to teach. It is something wonderful, to be able to pass on your knowledge to the younger generations."

Fleur nodded, thinking of her own lessons, and Harry's gentle yet stern efforts to perfect her wand movements.

"I know for a fact that I will not be able to either contain your innocence, which is most likely long gone, Harry. Therefore, my other course of action is to include you in my operations against Voldemort, which I'm sure you are interested in."

"He killed my parents, and attacked Hogwarts itself. It's a fair assumption."

"It is my belief that whatever I tell you will be put through your sounding board anyway", Dumbledore gestured at Hermione and Daphne with a wave of his hand. "I would like you to know that Voldemort has shown his face in England again. I'm not sure where he is but I will, at the risk of sounding like my old friend Alastor, ask you to practice constant vigilance. Merlin knows you're not really a one-hit wonder."

Harry and Dumbledore chuckled, an old leader to a young one.

"I suppose you have much to discuss", Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling gently. "Carry on now."

Harry stood up mechanically, and they left, one by one, for the room on the third floor.

Harry drew the wards in silence as everyone sat in a different chair. The remains of Harry's favorite conjurations were littered over the floor.

Harry conjured a chair as he sat down and stared at the three other presences in the room quietly.

"I suppose I owe you an apology, Hermione."

There was another silence, but unlike the previous ones, it spoke of a certain brand of camaraderie.

"Now, onto simultaneously less and more important things." Harry took a deep breath. "The trust that Albus Dumbledore has in me is currently zero. As he sees it, I went behind his back, and became a Mage. To add insult to injury, while he worked to preserve my innocence, the manifestation of my soul is a royal purple at the moment, which speaks of a certain amount of realism that would be disgusting to him."

"You two seemed to be getting along fairly well-"

"Of course we have to be getting along fairly well. I am still his student, possibly the best student he's had. We are on the same side. But while he is an ally of mine, his goals and aims are not coincident with mine."

Daphne nodded. "At this point, you have sufficient magical power to take on the Dark Lord and win, I believe. Any of us would probably be capable of defeating several of the less trained Death Eaters, and possibly some of the more famous ones, though the majority are locked."

"So my current aim should be to gather followers", finished Harry. "People who would agree with cause or, at least, people who would accept me as their leader. Perhaps the older allies of House Potter."

"Ahh, but then you would have to make nice to the Weasleys." There was a short laugh from Hermione and Harry.

"Let's take a step back. How do great leaders get people under their banners?" Fleur queried in French. Harry translated, then answered.

"Well, starting with Dumbledore, the man's been teaching here, creating bonds with students, for more than fifty years. There are rumors that whenever there's a more promising student, he or she is inducted into his Order of the Phoenix, which is the worst kept secret in magical Britain."

"I'm fairly certain that Voldemort gained his Death Eaters by crafting an inner circle, and having recruitment drives in Knockturn alley", said Daphne.

"My mother", Harry muttered quietly. "She had a bunch of friends in school, it was another Inner Circle-esque move. It consisted of a bunch of people, including Snape, who is on our side."

"Your mother?" Fleur's eyes widened.

Harry nodded.

"So we are at an impasse of sorts, aren't we? Either you take the route of a Dark Lord, or you'll be under the thumb of Albus Dumbledore for a very long time", said Hermione.

"Being under the thumb of Albus Dumbledore is not necessarily a bad thing", said Harry. "People all over the world see him as a manipulative old man, but as British magical folk we should know better. Albus Dumbledore is what protects our world from the Clock Tower, from the Sea of Estray, the Church, the American League, and even the Demon Hunters. Each of these groups have the power to topple the Wizengamot. Yet wielding the First Blaze for nearly a century has given him to power to protect everyone here. I doubt a full muster by the Church can break into Hogwarts."

"A full muster from the Church itself?" frowned Fleur. "A contingent of eight sorcerers and a thousand mages?"

"Albus Dumbledore sitting upon the Golden Throne in the Great Hall has the ability to rebuff them. In Nineteen Sixty Three, forty eight mages and two sorcerers attacked Hogwarts. They were clearly expected to succeed, but Dumbledore killed half of them in one spell."

"Why was he unable to kill the Dark Lord, then?" asked Daphne.

"I believe there is a certain amount of fate at work. Aside from that, the only battle they fought lasted around fifteen seconds, with Voldemort running away. In truth, the only people capable of defeating him in single combat would be the upper echelons of the Mage's Association, due to the very nature of the Blaze."

"You defeated him."

"I did not. The only time he used the Blaze of Merlin was in competition with my Sand Demon, which should have had the power to kill a normal mage in seconds. He used an absolute defense that he had developed in his youth rather than the Phoenix Flame Shield. He used an inferior wand. I may be more powerful than a thousand men, but I am still far from any of the named finalists at Rome Duels. There is power in the world that I must seize, but the majority is far off. I have the disadvantage of finding out about magic at the age of eleven. Had I started at four, as many Pureblood heirs..."

**Mangekyo**

_Specialization._

_Godric Gryffindor defeated Salazar Slytherin because he was damn good with the sword, and had the First Blaze._

_Specialization._

_Despite all their esoteric knowledge, all the Primary Colors and Wizard Marshalls of the Mage's Association have one great Power to fall back on. The Philosopher's Stone. The Miracles. Wind Magic._

_Specialization._

_The very nature of the Kaleidoscopic Eyes speak of dynamic knowledge that never takes a certain focus._

_Specialization._

_The King must have a sharper sword._

Harry gripped his wand and gave a harsh whisper. "Again."

A bolt of black flame left his wand and instantly incinerated a dummy.

_Flames that match the heat of the First Blaze._

_The Shining Heavens burn._


	44. The Eyes of Divinity

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harry Potter related. I don't own the Sharingan, or any other bloodlines lifted from Naruto. I don't really own much, honestly.

Author's Notes: Open your eyes.

**Mangekyo**

"Burn", he muttered.

"I'm on the road to who knows where... There is no place to go that I don't want to take. The Conquering King burns all foes before him, and all bridges behind him! Amaterasu!"

Harry fell to his knees, gritting his teeth.

There was power out there, power that he could almost touch, but not quite.

He knew it came from his Left eye.

"My Soul?" he wondered aloud.

The Second Task was in a week, and it appeared that no one even cared about their Egg clue. Cedric Diggory had long given up on it, and was being tutored by McGonagall day and night in Transfiguration. Krum had vanished off to who-knows-where, undoubtedly perfecting his grasp on dueling. Fleur practiced with Hermione and Daphne all the time, leaving him to his own devices. They knew how important it was to him.

"No, not my Soul. It doesn't feel like my Aria."

He sat down, and stared into the mirror. "Tsukuyomi."

The room fell away, and he found a perfect replica of himself with a pair of green eyes staring at him.

"Wh-who are you?" the person asked.

"I'm you. But you knew that already, didn't you?"

"Wh-what? Is this one of Voldemort's traps?" the boy sputtered. He was strapped to a cross made of sinewy brown ivy, as all of the victims of Tsukuyomi were.

"Don't play stupid. You're just my subconscious."

The other Harry glared at him. "Let me go! I'm not your subconscious! I don't know who you are, or why you're doing this, and why you think you need to impersonate me. How did you even get into Hogwarts?"

"Enough of this now. I need you to tell me what is this other power I've been feeling, from you. It's not my Soul manifestation, but something else. Why are you different from me?"

"Soul magic?" the boy asked, going pale. "You're messing with soul magic? Dumbledore says that-"

Harry cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Why must you insist on being difficult?"

"Listen, you better let me go! My father isn't going to like this!"

"Am I really insane? James Potter is dead."

"You killed my father, you bastard?" the boy screamed. "You vile-"

"I didn't kill James Potter. Mum did. She Avada Kedavra'd him in the back of the head. You know this!"

"My mother's been dead for thirteen years!" the boy growled.

Then Harry had a revelation.

"Kamui", he whispered. "The Space-Time Divinity isn't Divine because I can break Space-Time. A fucking Time Turner can break Time. Apparition and House Elves can break Space."

"Wh-what are you on about?" asked the other Harry, who was looking at him like he was insane.

"It is Divine because I can break the fabric between worlds."

"What are you saying?"

"I am also Harry Potter. In this world, mom was a revolutionary at best, a Dark Lady at worst and a carrier of very powerful blood that manifested in me. It appears that I can draw another Harry Potter from a Parallel world into the world of the Red Moon for seventy two hours. I assume that you will have been gone for a mere minute in yours. Now, do tell me, are you capable of anything beyond the norm?"

"Beyond the norm?" the boy wondered. Harry had let him down from the cross during his small monologue. "Well, I'm a fantastic Quidditch player. I've been recruited by England for the next World-"

"Something beyond the norm that would make it easy for me to defeat sorcerers."

"Sorcerers? You mean, like Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes. We are currently allied, but I have doubt in my ability to defeat him if I ever need to."

"You're mad! We're fourteen! I'm damn good at dueling, but-"

"Dueling, you say? Do you have any special techniques? Actually never mind. You're going to duel me now. You may try to kill me the best you can, but it won't be effective. This is just a projection of my mind, and yours, after all."

A wand materialized in the other Harry's hand.

Other stared at his wand.

"Well, go ahead."

"Expelliarmus!" Other cried.

Harry batted the spell out of the way with his wand.

"Stupefy!"

The Stunning spell met the same fate as the Disarming charm. "I told you to come with me with the intent to mutilate me, or worse. We can't actually get hurt if I don't want us to."

"Reducto!"

Harry rolled his eyes and flicked the spell away.

"How are you doing this!" Other wondered.

"You said you were good at Dueling!" Harry fired back. "Shouldn't you know the Resultant Slash counter?"

"What's... that?"

"You know what? Never mind. I was more capable of dueling in October of my first year. We have seventy two hours here. I'm going to teach you how to duel."

"Wh-"

"The Eighteen Counters were a system designed through joint effort by Godric Gryffindor and Helga Hufflepuff as a more offensive variant of the Shield Charm. The one I used on your spells was Resultant Slash, which is the fourteenth. In order to perform the first, you hold your wand in front of you as if..."

**Mangekyo**

Harry blinked at the mirror. "Tsukuyomi."

The world dissolved, and very suddenly there was a figure strapped to a cross of roots in front of him.

"You're a girl", Harry stared.

"Wh-who are you?"

"I am you. Or rather, another one of you. I am a Harry Potter whose mother was a Dark Lady. I'm am currently borrowing other versions of myself, hoping to find one that can teach me arcane magics that would help me defeat other Sorcerers."

"Other sorcerers?" she wondered. Her voice was soft and melodious, and Harry was pleased to find that he made a very pretty girl.

"Yes. Unfortunately, my specialty seems to be eluding me, and I have the ability to pick things up rather... quickly. You're taking this rather well."

"That's because I know I'm dreaming. I read about this in one of Hermione's psychology books, you know. Since everyone's deserted me, I want human company so badly that my dreams are fabricating other versions of me, myself and I."

Harry frowned, disliking the fact that the girl thought he was just a figment of her imagination. "Well, you can still humor me, can't you? Do you have any special abilities?"

"Well, I'm a pretty good Chaser. I can cast a Patronus. I'm a decent singer."

"Abilities that would be useful during a duel."

"I'm top of the class at Defense..."

"Is your teacher currently Alastor Moody?"

"Yes. He's-"

"Pathethic."

"Fantastic."

They glared at one another. Harry had let her down from the root Cross a while back, and she was pacing around. She folded her arms. "He's a really good teacher!" she protested. "Almost as good as Remus!" It appeared that she had a better relationship with Professor Lupin than he did.

"He's a shadow of the man he was. I defeated him in seconds."

"You, a boy of fourteen, defeated a Master Au-"

"Do you want to duel?" Harry growled, a wand materializing in both of their hands.

She didn't wait for a signal. "Corda exactos!" she cried, a more powerful variant of the Entrail Expulsion curse.

"Nice and Dark. There's hope for you yet." Harry intercepted it with the Countercurse.

"Fulmina Torques! Aguamenti!" An array of lightning rods surrounded him as she sprayed water at him. Harry smiled, dodging the stream and resultant droplets with relative ease.

"Elemental. Intelligent."

"Sanguis cadere caligo!" she screamed.

"A Vampiric curse! You exceed my expectations!" Harry knocked it out of the way with the Refractive Wave counter.

"How are you blocking these!" she shouted.

"I've encountered each one before", Harry said. "As well as all thirty two variants of the Entrail Expulsion curse."

The girl summoned a pack of dingos that were reminiscent of Cedric Diggory's work.

"That's enough." Harry snapped the strands that held the Transfigurations together and vanished the Other's wand.

"How-"

"I control the world in here. I'm sorry, but you really are, for the space of a minute in your world and seventy two hours here, in the land of the Red Moon. Unfortunately, it seems that you are nowhere close to my level. I suppose I will teach you like the other poor sod I called here."

"Teach me?" she asked, blinking.

"Yes. You are utilizing too much arm in your Vampiric half-turn within your Dark Blood Curse..."

The hours passed quickly as Harry taught himself the secrets of the Dark Arts.

"Promise me you'll visit me again?" she asked.

Harry bit her left shoulder, and sent a strand of black fire into her. "I am the Soul of the King. I seal the fire of the Shining Heavens into your Eye."

He stared at her for a moment. "If, and when, you confront someone about to kill you, my Flames will burn, and I will utilize the Divinity to reach you."

**Mangekyo**

"Tsukuyomi!"

"I'm a Healer. I'm in my lunch break at the moment, but I really have to be going..."

**Mangekyo**

"Tsukuyomi!"

"Where's Twylyte! Why can't I feel Twylyte?"

"Who's Twylyte?"

"My dragon. I hatched her as an egg. What have you done with-"

"You have a magical connection with your Dragon?"

"You mean you don't have Shur'tugal here?"

"What's-"

"Dragon Riders. We're capable of... lots of things."

"Are you serious?"

**Mangekyo**

"Tsukuyomi!"

"Well, I don't know about talent, but I'm damn good with aiming my Killing Curses. I'm an Assassin, you see, but most people refer to me as The Bounty Hunter."

"You kill people for money? Money?"

"Money's the only thing that's never lied to me."

"Your existence is not validated."

**Mangekyo**

"Tsukuyomi!"

"My skill is within Necromancy", the Harry, who looked even shadier than he did, finally replied.

"Necromancy." Harry gave a disgusted eye roll.

"What's your problem with my Art?" Necro-Harry clutched his chest and spun on his heel, "It's the only true path to knowing thyself! After all, if you have access to all to ever live or die, you'll certainly find her eventually! It is Art in its purest form! At the final moment of release, Art is imprinted-"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, with a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach. Surely he couldn't mean-

"You can't spell 'Necromancer' without the word 'Romancer'!"

There was a long silence. When Harry spoke again, his voice was soft and deadly, with just a hint of madness.

"The Red Moon is, first and foremost, a spell used to torture people..."

**Mangekyo**

"Tsukuyomi!"

"You can't want my autograph this badly! Where are we anyway?"

"Why would I possibly want your autograph?"

"Because I'm Harry Potter! But you know that already, don't you? Why else would you kidnap me?"

**Mangekyo**

"Tsukuyomi", he muttered warily.

"You're telling me you survived with luck? You flew against the Hungrarian Horntail? You burned Quirrell alive by touching him? Dumbledore's Phoenix brought you the Sorting Hat which just happened to have the Sword? Sirius Black is still an outlaw? You disgust me."

**Mangekyo**

"Tsukuyomi..."

"What? Who are you?"

"Why are you nude?" Harry wondered, pointedly ignoring the erection on the Other's personage.

"I was in the process of mating-"

"Mating?"

"It turns out that I'm part Veela, and I have to-"

"Do you slay demons for a living as well?"

"What?"

"Useless! All of you are useless!"

**Mangekyo**

"Tsukuyomi."

"Fight the Power! Werewolf rights!"

"..."

**Mangekyo**

"Tsukuyomi."

"Let me go", the vampire in front of his whispered, the compulsions layering his voice.

"No."

"How? No mortal should be able to-"

"You have a long way to go until you're at the top of the food chain, newborn."

**Mangekyo**

"Tsukuyomi."

"So, tell me more about these Denari coins..."

**Mangekyo**

"Tsukuyomi."

"You're a squib? Who was adopted by Queen Elizabeth? There really are an infinite number of parallel worlds out there..."

**Mangekyo**

"Tsuku- This isn't working out, is it?" Harry glared at his reflection. "Three hours and a hundred and eighty Harrys later has cemented the fact that I'm in the top one percent of all fourteen year old Harry Potters."

He began penning runes to cool himself down from the overuse of his left Eye.

He looked down at his work, an array that he had named the Soul of Diamonds.

"They all combine to fuel the one that asks. Diamond is a misnomer. It is the very reverse. When a hundred thousand rays hit it, the power transfers to one. Like a laser... or-"

He stood up.

"An infinite number of Harry Potters, all accessible by the Divinity of Space-Time. Now, what if I were capable of utilizing all of their power at once?"

A smile bloomed on his lips as he sat down and immediately began penning notes.


	45. The Eyes of Gellert Grindelwald

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harry Potter related. I don't own the Sharingan, or any other bloodlines lifted from Naruto. I don't really own much, honestly.

disappointed: No, this will not be a shortcut to SuperHarry. :X

Author's Note: Hi guys. Your chapter is 6 hours late (heh.) because I have a life. Just kidding. I woke up late this morning, and had to leave the house. Also, instead of writing, I was eating foods and discussing my newest fic idea, which is... very, very dark compared to this, and a Death Hallows AU that involves Harry, Neville and an OC being the same person. Think along the lines of Id, Ego, and Superego or Higher (Freud), Human and Lower (Buddhism) or even the three Unforgivable Curses. You won't understand until you read it, and even then, you might not. So I'm probably not going to devote much time into writing it.

**Mangekyo**

"Kamui."

He tore through the hallways at speeds that should have been impossible for humans, having utilized his Charge Step for minutes beforehand.

It was Christmas Eve, and Dumbledore knew he was going to take a walk around East London.

But he wasn't in East End.

The soft, deep blue walls were actually covered in Rune arrays, but Harry was moving too fast to be hit by the majority of the defensive measures.

He took apart the eighty third Stunning array. It appeared that being this deep into the Department of Mysteries warranted a Stun-and-Study rather than instant-kill.

He finally barrelled past the Room of Prophecies and into the Room of Memories.

_Three thousand B.C._

He ducked an errant globe of magic.

_Two thousand B.C._

The memories increased in frequency as he tore through the shelves.

_One thousand B.C._

_Zero A.D._

_Five hundred A.D._

_One thousand A.D._

_Fifteen hundred A.D._

_Sixteen hundred A.D._

_Seventeen hundred A.D._

_Eighteen hundred A.D._

He slipped out of Turbo Mode, the final vestiges of his Charge Step negating.

_Nineteen Hundred A.D._

_Nineteen Ten A.D._

_Nineteen Twenty A.D._

_Nineteen Thirty A.D._

_Nineteen Forty A.D._

_Nineteen Forty Five A.D._

Harry ducked into the aisle and stared at the months. January... February... October... November... December.

He placed his hand on his prize and whispered, "Kamui."

He quickly ducked into the Memory Projections Theatre in Bangkok, speaking rudimentary Thai to obtain an empty room.

The floor was of bamboo and bugs buzzed everywhere, but Harry didn't care. He dumped the memory into the projector and drew forty two Privacy wards around the perimeter, as well as cancelling the Memory Copy spell on the bowl.

The memory began to play.

"This is the memory of Edgar Bones, Year Nineteen Forty Five, December Twenty Fifth, at Gendarmenmarkt, Berlin."

The speaking man, presumably Edgar Bones, dissolved.

Spellfire. Everywhere. This was war.

"You left me!" roared a man with long, flowing auburn hair.

"You fired the Killing Curse at me, Albus!" the other man protested. He looked no older than twenty one, but his eyes had a certain age to them. There was a hint of madness in the blue, flecked with a demonic purple.

"Gellert..."

"I am, Albus, on the cusp of becoming a legend. No wizard before me, operating on a single core, has achieved so much sheer ability. Do you understand? The Elder Wand is just the beginning!"

"The Elder Wand..." a pained look filled the younger Dumbledore's face. It didn't look right on him. There was an inhuman longing that Harry associated with drug addicts in that expression.

"With it, I can defeat all of you. From Nicholas Flamel to Zelretch Schweinorg, there is no one capable of matching me! Not with what I've taken into me. No one... but you, Albus."

"Gellert, it isn't time for-"

"Don't think you've fooled me, Albus. There is Greatness in every Generation. Every forty years, give or take twenty more, there is a man or woman born with a chance to change the world, immune to those before them in the eyes of Fate. But in our generation, there were two. That is why the Elder Wand is useless against you."

"Useless?"

"We... Albus. At the age of sixteen we met. Against all odds, we befriended one another rather than fought. But in the end, Fate intervened, didn't she?"

"Fate. You'd always believed in Fate. While I told you that I would carve my own path, you told me that-"

"That you were fated to do so. That was before I figured out exactly who and what we were."

"And what are we, Gellert?"

There was silence across the battlefield. Eight of Grindelwald's remaining lieutenants had simply stopped dueling the Order of the Phoenix and the five man contingent the Mage's Association had sent.

"We are Kings, Albus. Kings not of humanity, but Kings of Kings, of that which dwells beneath, behind, and aside!"

"You're wrong", Dumbledore whispered, mostly to himself. "You're wrong."

"A final duel, Albus? The Elder Wand is a fantastic work, even if I can't utilize its more powerful properties against you."

Both men pointed their wands at the ground.

"No bullshit, Albus. None of the easy-to-dodge Hallowed magic. None of your Transfiguration. Fight me with the real deal, so I can respond with such. We both know magic beyond this world! Virtus humana sacrificium! Pervenit in magica scire quomodo factum est. Anima mea synonyma omnium maxima cum Daemonibus!"

And with that, Grindelwald began to draw Hellfire from the depths of his heart.

Edgar Bones crumpled to his knees under the pressure of the power - in fact, only Albus Dumbledore remained standing.

"Blaze of Merlin, attend me! Blaze of Merlin, augment me!"

Dumbledore's magic bloomed into existence and fought directly with the demonic might that Grindelwald exuded.

"Righteousness is the birthright of the world. I am Albus Dumbledore, who will always stand as the Leader of the Light. I have pushed Magic to its boundaries. I have-"

A stray lightning bolt hit Edgar Bones, and he passed out, but not before there was roaring laughter from Grindelwald.

"Twenty Five Lines to your Soul, Albus?"

**Mangekyo**

Christmas afternoon was a tedious affair, with nearly everyone asking Harry to save them a dance. Fleur was conspicuously absent, possibly preparing for the Ball like Hermione and Daphne.

Harry made no promises, but somehow knew that he would be incapable of backing out of dancing with just Fleur.

"My, my, Mr. Potter. You're very popular."

"Y-you!" Harry muttered.

"Me." The girl's dyed red hair swirled attractively.

"How'd you get in here?" Harry hissed.

"I asked my superiors where Hogwarts was, and the old man gave me permission."

Harry blinked rapidly. "Wouldn't he object when you blew everything up?"

Aoko laughed. "I'm not quite that bad. I have a certain respect for life that all of us share."

"How's the situation with the Association?" Harry finally asked.

"Bad", she said. "I'm here to evaluate you for mental stability, actually. Nicholas is afraid that you've snapped, and are summoning demons. There's a demon summoner in this vicinity, after all. After the mess in Forty Five, we couldn't-"

"Are you referring to Grindelwald?" Harry wondered.

"Of course I'm referring to Grindelwald! The man who indebted us to Albus Dumbledore", she muttered. "He just wouldn't die, no matter how hard everyone tried. The most talented wizard in two centuries, who had no teacher. He's my specialty, you know, being a prodigy and all."

"How did the duel end?"

"You! You're the one who stole the Memory from the English Ministry's Department of Mysteries! Lorelei was raging about that for five hours this morning! She really wanted to know who broke her wards. She even accused me, because she knew that I was capable of destroying magic..."

"Yes. I was the one who broke into the Department of Mysteries yesterday."

"You tripped eight hundred and forty eight wards."

"I was going for speed. I think that if I had taken it a bit slower, I could have destroyed them with the use of the more arcane bits of my magic."

"Who's that, Harry?"

Daphne had appeared in a black dress and heels. She looked very comfortable, and her hair was done up. Harry, however, hadn't even noticed. "This... is Aoko Aozaki."

Daphne's lips pursed, and a hint of fear was visible in her eyes. She immediately pulled herself closer to Harry, partially marking him as hers, partially for protection.

"Is that one of the Primary Colors?" came a third voice from Harry's left. Fleur was dressed more conservatively than Daphne, but as a Veela, she drew even more wandering eyes. At her waist was a jeweled rapier that looked to be decorative, but Harry knew better. The Parisian Piercing Weave, drawn with at least a century worth of Runes apparent even through the scabbard, denoted that it must have been the Delacour artifact. "You know the most important people." Fleur frowned.

Aoko looked rather out of place in a loose white t-shirt and jeans.

She looked around as more and more well-dressed teenagers appeared and blushed slightly, seemingly shrinking into herself a bit. Harry was pleased to note that she wasn't above peer pressure. "Well, I'm sure we can go on a date later. I have to leave. Bye Harry!" she said quickly, disappearing with a strong pop.

"Can you explain to me why you know her again, Harry?" muttered Daphne rebelliously.

Harry frowned. "Whoever I know is none of your business."

"Why are you acting so defensive?"

"Why are you acting like a spurned lover? You're the one who's fucking Hermione. You two went ahead and proceeded with your relationship before-"

"I don't want to hear it, Harry. Not tonight. Not after you retrieved the memory of Dumbledore's duel with Grindelwald, and not after _that_."

"You're impossible, Daphne", Harry whispered, storming off.

"He's not emotionally stable, is he?" Daphne asked Fleur, but the older girl was gone as well.

**Mangekyo**

Harry managed to escape the Yule Ball two hours into the event. He reappeared in Muggle London, transfiguring his dress robes into a smart looking dress shirt and a pair of jeans. After realizing that it was a fantastic piece of magic, he etched a quick set of runes into it, making the change permanent.

He locked onto a magical signature that he had followed, and walked briskly until he was standing in front of the British Museum, the headquarters of the Clock Tower.

Eighteen Bound Fields suddenly went up around him. They weren't very high quality compared to the work of the Gringotts Goblins or Hogwarts, but they were far more lethal than either. His Eye of Eternity spun, ready to take them apart at a thought, but Harry didn't.

A group of Mages appeared in front of him.

"Hello. Tell Blue that James Evans is here to see her."

"You?" scoffed someone who looked like the generic inbred blueblood, with a pasty white face and average magical circuits. "Our Primary Colors don't speak to rabble."

"You mean your only Primary Color. The other two positions haven't been filled for many years. Not since they were all killed in Forty Five by-"

"Do not speak of the Great War, you pathetic- I don't know how you defeated the old fool, but you're in the territory of the Mage's Association, and within our Eighteenfold Bound!"

Even as he spoke, the wards slid off of Harry.

"Stand down", came a clear voice.

"Hello, Lady Barthomeloi", Harry enunciated clearly, bowing fully.

"Mr. Evans."

"I'm here to see Miss Blue. I am relatively sure she is here."

Lorelei's lips curled into a sneer. "And what business would you have with Aoko Aozaki?"

"I was under the impression she would entertain a desire of mine to court her." Harry could barely refrain from smiling as he talked about dating with a woman twice his age, who had nothing but contempt for him.

In an instance, a field of silence fell in a direct line between Lorelei and Harry.

"What are you playing at, Harry Potter?" she hissed.

"I wanted to go out with someone who's caught my attention", Harry protested.

"No you don't. You're here for something. What do you _want_."

There was a pause and a very loud pop.

"Hello... James. I knew you'd follow me!" she smirked. "We have to go, Lorelei. I'll talk to you about the theft at the Ministry later."

Lorelei's eyes bulged. "Y-you!" she pointed an accusing finger at Harry, but they were gone.

"Why did you incriminate me?"

"Well, I thought it was a job well done, and thought you deserved some credit."

They walked through the London night for a while, with Aoko dragging Harry into various boutiques.

"What do you think of that suitcase, Harry?" Aoko wondered, pointing at a very business-like piece.

"I like it", Harry smiled. He pulled it off the rack.

"Three thousand pounds", said a surly cashier, who had mistaken the pair for windowshoppers.

"Done", Harry said, throwing a wad of bills onto the counter. The cashier sputtered for a moment, then proceeded to test the notes to ensure they weren't counterfeits.

"Now, I'm going to demand a... story", Harry smiled, carefully hiding his apprehension at the word, despite the fact that he just _had _to use it.

They walked off, Aoko swinging the briefcase with wild abandon.

"Gellert Grindelwald was a true mage, one of the most powerful to ever walk the earth..."


	46. The Eyes of Fate

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harry Potter related. I don't own the Sharingan, or any other bloodlines lifted from Naruto. I don't really own much, honestly.

Author's Note: This is another more fillerish chapter, but there's a bunch of important stuff coming up. I hope you enjoy it.

Author's Note: My story (in the works) involving the OC and all... It's going to happen. I really like the idea, honestly. Maybe you will too, but it's far darker than this.

Beta: Mana, who offers a million snarky comments per every useful one. Thanathos, who offers a million useful comments per every snarky one. And Niall, who do so many grammar helps. I love y'all. Heh.

**Mangekyo**

"Of all the great wizards in the world, half possess huge amounts of talent. The other half are blessed by Fate. What you must understand about Grindelwald's interpretation of Fate is that such an object is perfectly immutable, and never takes a side. A man blessed by fate may endure the loss of his entire family in order to fit him within the parameters of capability."

"Capability. You speak of it as if it meant the parameters would allow such a person to succeed with the slightest margin of doubt."

"It is exactly that. While the direction events move on will always be in motion towards a fated occurrence, there will be no adjustment that makes it easier or more difficult if it is at all possible. Of course, there is a name for these sorts of people."

"Fatebreaker."

"Yes, Fatebreakers. Of all the Fatebreakers, very few are skilled beyond the crutch of their Fate, and even then, the majority never reach the upper echelons of power. Most of the great men in the world have been Fatebreakers. Lord Zelretch was Fated to fight the Crimson Moon once, and Flamel was Fated to bear the cross of the Truth. It is generally what people accomplish after their Fate which sets them apart. It is certainly what set Albus Dumbledore apart."

Harry was silent for a moment.

Aoko spoke suddenly. "You know it as well as I. On your forehead sits a rune of the Most Ancient of languages. Which rune is it?"

"It is the Seventeenth rune of the Blood series, crafted upon the Stone at the Mouth of the Rivers. It is the rune known as Fate/Victory."

"Fate/Victory?" Aoko queried.

"The Blood Series is not very well known, as the only exposure is highly publicized memories. Yet, upon the Sword of Rupture is not the only place where they are inscribed."

"Where else?"

"I am beginning to think that the Storm God is not a manifestation of the concept known as the Marble Phantasm. It is far too fanciful for my power to be effective against the logic of probability. It is something far more human than that. I believe the Susano'o is my Oversoul, for inscribed within it are runes in no apparent order, until I contemplate my Aria."

"Why do you trust me with this, Harry?"

"Who would you tell? Nicholas Flamel? Lorelei Barthomeloi? Albus Dumbledore? Anyone who's studied my abilities should be capable of coming to that conclusion. Anyone competent, at least", he finished in a mutter.

Aoko didn't say anything for a moment. "Fate/Victory."

"Yes. There are thirteen Fate runes. Upon my body are two of them, the runes of Fate/Victory and Fate/Kaleidoscope, the second of which is inscribed upon my left eye."

"What is the... most powerful of the Fate runes?" Aoko asked, despite herself. She knew such a question could be considered childish, but in front of her was a prodigy in runes that no one alive could match.

"Either Fate/Birth or Fate/Truth, depending on your interpretation of power. If you believe power is sheer perfection of creativity, Fate/Birth can help you conjure things that would break the mould of what could be considered the norm. It is a rune used to create demons and contradictions such as magical receptacles. If you believe power is the easiest way to destroy others, Fate/Truth would be the greatest of them all. When Lorelei blew a hole into Lord Flamel's chest, I realized that Fate/Truth had been cut into the Philosopher's Stone."

"I see." Aoko's mind whirled with the possibility as she unconsciously rubbed what she thought was a birthmark previously.

"Grindelwald?"

"Grindelwald was a demon summoner. But he was more than that. Where a sorcerer would summon a demon to fight by his side, something that could be bound by a more holy version of the field that we raised against you, Grindelwald... absorbed them."

"Absorbed them?" Harry asked, faintly repulsed.

"Yes. He pulled the guardian of the Ninth Circle into his chest and utilized a sort of malevolent red Hellfire to power his magic. It is the belief of most experts that such an act destroyed his control over Transfiguration and more delicate branches of magic but the fire charms he cast had the general consistency of Fiendfyre. When he did cast Fiendfyre, he could obliterate large sections of cities."

Harry pursed his lips. He wasn't prepared to pull a demon into himself, and realized that he never would be.

They walked in silence for a longer while before Aoko decided that she needed to go back to the Clock Tower. She suddenly pulled Harry into a kiss. Harry noted that she tasted of wildflowers for just a moment, and blushed lightly.

Yet something was still missing. It just didn't feel the same as-

He tore his thoughts away from Daphne and Hermione violently, vanishing without a sound.

**Mangekyo**

"You want either of us to go for a swim? Also, why is Ludo Bagman pointing a wand at my back?"

Daphne was pleased to discover that she could feel it when there was a weapon levelled in her direction.

There was a flustered noise from Bagman, who chose to fire a textbook Stunner as opposed to talking the situation out.

"Bad decision, asshole." Daphne's wand came down in a Reflective Amplification, returning the stunner at three times the speed and four times the power.

Bagman slumped to the ground. Percy Weasley drew his own wand.

"T-this is a Ministry order! Lay down your wand and let-"

"And let you stun us, Auror?" Daphne laughed. "Oh, right. You're just a student with a desk job. Can't say it was easy to make the distinction though." Percy flushed.

"Calm yourself", came the voice of Harry Potter as he walked into the Entrance Hall. "Do not antagonize him, Daphne."

"He wanted to kidnap me, Harry."

"What's this?"

Percy looked from Harry to Daphne, then to the silent Hermione.

"It's for... the tournament", Percy grudgingly admitted. "They're under the jurisdiction of the Ministry now and-"

"Exactly where is the... legality in this?"

"Well, there's a rule in the Triwizard Tournament manu-"

"That overrides the Hogwarts Charter and the Merlin Accords? Are you mad?" Harry wondered. "This is an international accident waiting to happen. The Triwizard tournament hasn't been hosted for so many years not because it was dangerous, but because it sparked a year long war between England and Germany when the Durmstrang champion killed the Hog-"

"Message received, Lord Potter", said a weary Weasley. "I'll find someone else."

**Mangekyo**

"Ronald Weasley?" Harry muttered through his Submarine charm, a propeller-enhanced version of the Bubblehead charm. "He chose Ron Weasley as my precious person?"

He idly wondered where the phrase came from.

He waved his wand, and a textbook cutting curse sped at the weeds that held the boy down and turned up his lip when he realized it had no effect.

"Sangue versato e diviso!" The Italian version of the Blood cutter tore through the kelp as if it were tissue paper and Harry grabbed the Weasley by the waist and shrank him, stuffing him in his pocket.

"Repulso!" he cried, channeling huge amounts of magic through his wand and pushing himself off the ground in a cloud of magic. He stared with no small amount of worry at the hairline fractures that manifested along the Holly whenever he pushed himself with it.

He shot out of the water while applying stabilizing charms.

"What is young Mr. Potter do-"

"He's equalizing the pressure so he doesn't get the bends", interrupted Dumbledore. "It is clear that such a quick ascent hasn't been calcu-"

Fleur Delacour shot out of the water, riding on a stream of photons, cradling her baby sister and glaring daggers at Bagman.

"You!" she screeched. "You stunned my eight year old sister!" she continued in rapid French which Maxime translated happily.

After another hour, Harry discovered that he was still in first place, and Fleur was tied with Cedric Diggory for second. Viktor Krum had made a bad decision with his Transfiguration, and his mother now had a bloody shoulder, courtesy of his shark teeth.

"The next event will be in March!" boomed Bagman. "It will be an obstacle course. And it won't be involving any-"

"Hostages?" Fleur bit out.

Bagman swallowed nervously. "Yes yes." He waved his hand.

Fleur gave an unladylike snort and left in a huff.

**Mangekyo**

"The Falling Supernova is very difficult to perform, and I will have to do much to contain it if you mess up."

Hermione nodded grimly.

"Down."

The three girls traced their wands downward.

"Up."

"Swish, circle, Peasant's Slash."

"Round out, Spin. Left hand pull."

"Two hands now. Raise your wand to the sky. First Rune is Victory."

Daphne formed the Egyptian rune for Victory by twisting her left hand. Fleur did it with her wand. Hermione drew Harry's scar in the air, building up an intense amount of magic. She looked to be rather strained.

"The Nordic Blooded Eight!"

"Indonesian Fantasy of Mind and Shadow!"

"Fourteen Thoughts of Destruction! Kushite series!"

"Back flick, turn and fall."

Daphne and Hermione stared in confusion for a moment, but followed Fleur's lead in falling to one knee and bringing her wand around.

"Incantation One is Smurt Na Zvezda. It means death of a Star!"

"Smurt Na Zvezda!" three voices cried in unison.

"Rise and point your wand at me!"

"The Second Part of the Incantation is Tahe Lokemist!"

Three tiny points of light flew at Harry's Bunker Shield. With soft explosion, a huge wave of magic waved over Harry. Within three seconds, his Bunker charm dropped. His Charge Step held for another four seconds, even as Harry worked frantically to undo Hermione's charm.

In the end, it wasn't enough. "Kamui."

Harry appeared behind them and the magic, meeting no resistance, washed over the stones of the castle, dissolving three abandoned classrooms.

"Very good", Harry muttered. "Hermione's utilization of the Sumerian series allowed her to destroy my Bunker Charm, which has Iberian roots, easily. I've never seen Fall done like that before. I don't regret forgetting to tell you that it means to kneel quickly. All in all, I believe we have become rather competent."


	47. The Eyes of Diamond Dust

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harry Potter related. I don't own the Sharingan, or any other bloodlines lifted from Naruto. I don't really own much, honestly.

Author's Note: All of my reviewers have been troll'd. Also. Bagman troll'd you too, last chapter. Because I'm not quite creative enough to create a new Task that doesn't resemble one of jbern's (a.k.a. the man who wrote the best 4th year AU ever). /smashes face against table.

Author's Note: In other news, the time I allot to my daily update (4-8 hours of writing/playing UrT when I'm bored/reading other shit) was lost due to the planning of the obstacle course. Which was all fail and no wins.

Author's Note: There will be a section in this chapter that you might rage at. The answer to your rage is 'Wai u mad tho?'

**Mangekyo**

The days passed quickly, and it was soon March. Harry and Fleur had discussed the obstacle course in length, and Harry had finally revealed the ability he had to see Magic.

On a sunny afternoon, the four Champions were called away from their classes by Bagman.

"Cancelled?"

Bagman stared at the four champions nervously.

"Are you joking, Mr. Bagman?" asked Cedric, the only one capable of any sort of politeness at this point due to his stay in Hufflepuff House. Even Harry's forced smile looked fake beyond belief. Fleur and Krum had no such pretenses, the former looking furious and the latter surly.

"Repeat that please?" Harry hissed.

"The next task of the Triwizard tournament has been cancelled because Dumbledore refuses to conjure a permanent wall of fire to-"

"And why would he use the troll-repellent Firewall Charm in light of a stupid tournament?"

"Yes, why would you add the most effective way to flame trolls to the tournament?" asked Cedric, looking thoroughly confused.

Bagman looked rather ashamed. "Anyway, the next task is going to be..." He pointed at a bunch of growing hedges dramatically.

"A maze?" supplied Krum.

Bagman deflated. "Yes, it's a maze."

Harry rolled his eyes, and walked back towards the castle, away from the Quidditch field.

"Harry, wait!"

"Do you have any tips you'd like to share with _all of us_?" Harry shouted without turning around.

Bagman deflated even further.

**Mangekyo**

"Ahh, Harry, there you are."

"You've been watching me the whole time, Lady Kingmaker." Harry closed his left eye as a tear, full to the brim of his self-revulsion, desire and doubt, threatened to fall.

"Have you come any closer to fulfilling your duties, my King?" The angelic face of a child who had thoroughly fucked him in more ways than one smiled upwards, and Harry swallowed both his desire and his fear.

"Yes. I have isolated several possible culprits, due to several long discussions with Albus Dumbledore. He is unaware of demon summonings in the past years, but it is my belief that there is much to be learned from the practices of Gellert Grindelwald."

"Gellert?" Scathach smiled suddenly. "I haven't visited him in many years."

"Why would you need to visit him?" Harry wondered, a sinking feeling manifesting itself at the pit of his stomach.

"He was one of my failed projects. It doesn't hurt to show some love, and the wards on Nurmengard prison are designed to welcome the Fae folk."

"Did he have a... deal with you as well?"

"Of course he did, my King."

"What did he ask of you?" Harry wondered, half-hoping that she wouldn't give him the answer.

"Well, that would be telling", she whispered, suddenly behind him, caressing his neck and playing with his hair.

A little bubble of desire rose in his midsection.

She suddenly sat herself in his lap. "I'll tell you... if you tell me a story that isn't yours to tell."

Harry frowned. It was such a strange way of phrasing the command.

"There was once a girl born in January of Nineteen Seventy-seven to a family of Demon Hunters. Her name was Fleur Delacour, no more, no less, and she grew up with a hand on a rapier, another on a wand. She came from a family shamed through the world for not having executed an Archdemon in centuries. All her life was Honor as a Knight, Honor to the Light, and Honor to the Faith."

"That's enough, Harry", Scathach muttered, her face twisting into an unreadable expression. "I've heard enough. I'll tell you what Gellert wanted."

She took a deep breath, looking troubled, but her eyes twinkled deviously. "There were once two boys, one in service of the Light, the other a bringer of Darkness. Two touched by fate, they were, Albus taking the Mantle of Merlin and Gellert having nothing. So he summoned me, and asked me to make him powerful, despite his lack of familial talent to expand upon. I carved the Eight Trigrams of the Tao, the rune known as Fate/Seal, onto his stomach and pulled the Guardian of the Ninth Circle into him."

And then, she was gone, leaving a shocked Harry staring at his hands, which had rested on his lap.

**Mangekyo**

"She did it! It was her fault! Even _World War Two_ was her game! I bet Aoko never knew that it was _her_ fault", he ranted at a mirror. His eyes narrowed. He _really_ didn't want to tell Daphne and Hermione about this...

"Tsukuyomi!" he muttered, concentrating very hard on the Flame he had marked a particular version of himself with.

"Hello Harry", Alyssa Potter said. His first thought was that she looked worse for wear, with dark rings under her eyes from a lack of sleep, but then it hit him like a freight train.

"Dark Arts Poisoning?" he muttered as she stared at him with a hint of crazed hate in her eyes. "Jesus Christ, were you reading without filtering the Strands from- oh. Lumens!"

Harry focused the majority of the good thoughts he had about Daphne and Hermione to the fore, forcing himself to produce a very weak Hallowed spell in an attempt to cure his other self with higher Light.

He strained and strained, but was incapable of producing the necessary magic within the world of the Tsukuyomi."

"Wh-what are you doing, Harry? Are you going to teach me more? I-I need more", she gasped.

"Hush. I'll make you right yet." Harry wracked his brains. "What's more powerful than the Red Moon?" he asked no one in particular.

_The Truth. But absent the Truth..._

The realization came instantly. "When every human desire crystallizes, the Red Moon is destroyed. _Avalon_!"

The Red Moon of Tsukuyomi shattered as a bright globe of light appeared on the atmosphere, burning away the twisted crosses and ichor of Harry's world.

"Lumens!" The jet of white light sank into Alyssa's chest, and she twitched for a moment before screaming. Brackish black blood leaked out of the corner of her mouth, then left in a deluge through every orifice.

"Oh, I haven't felt so good in a while", she muttered. "What did you do, Harry?" Alyssa wondered.

"Dark Magic is believed to be corrupting because of the curses on the main texts. You were a victim of some of the mind twisting curses on _Magick Moste Evile_, or perhaps _Obscuro_."

"I've read both", she admitted without a hint of shame.

"Now, they're perfectly good texts, but I had forgotten an advantage that my eyes provide - immunity from any cursed reading. Remember to always cast the Light Sheathe over your hands and glasses before you begin, and if you find yourself simply _craving_ the pleasure of... releasing such dark power, you might want to call for the world of Tsukuyomi. If it isn't urgent, I'll probably feel the same urge, and I'll know."

"Thank you, Harry", she smiled.

_I'm a damn fine girl_, he thought to himself as he once again began to instruct himself in the Dark Arts while ranting about his general situation.

**Mangekyo**

"Never needed acceptance from outsiders, never needed to put my books down, never needed-" Hermione groaned. Harry's advice about sitting in front of a mirror and mumbling to herself made a lot of sense. When she was reciting her Aria, she found it nearly impossible to look into her own eyes.

"How does he do it? How does he know himself so _well_?" Daphne asked for her. Her hands were clasped in prayer as she chanted slowly, focusing her entire existence on her House Chants.

"Daphne, what we have..."

Daphne cut her off sharply. "I don't want to talk about it."

"We must talk about it." There was a type of steel in Hermione that Daphne rarely saw.

"Yet we will _not_."

"You can't just let this lie unattended. We both know who you love more than me, Daphne."

"Shut the fuck up."

Hermione recoiled as if stung, but didn't relent. "We _need_ to work this out, if we don't-"

"You... will shut your mouth, Hermione Granger. Or I will _kill_ you." Daphne's hands lit up in an unholy, if natural, green.

Hermione shut her mouth.

**Mangekyo**

"Why have you called us here, Krum?" Cedric wondered, speaking for both himself and Fleur.

"It is about Potter", he said, with a heavy 'tuh' sound after every 't'. "He vill vin ze Tournament if ve do not attempt to band together."

"Can someone get me a translation charm?" Fleur asked in the best English she could muster. Viktor scowled as she flounced off and stared at Cedric, who looked rather uncomfortable.

"I... think I should go too."

Krum stared at Cedric's retreating back glumly. "It's not v-herking", he muttered.

"I'm sure it'll come in time, sonny. We're one step closer to exposing Potter as... a Dark Wizard", said a voice in the corner hidden under an Invisibility Cloak. "We can't have another Grindelwald, can we?"

"Of course not, Professor Moody."

**Mangekyo**

Harry penned rune after rune, the majority of them burning away the very paper he was working with.

He kept coming back to Fate/Kaleidoscope. The single rune was key - it's strange shape was not like any other rune of the world, and when magic was channeled through it, it changed in design.

The base design of the Kaleidoscope was the alien petals of his Royal Eye, which he had carved and drawn on hundreds of different surfaces to no avail.

"An actual diamond?" he wondered aloud.

"An actual diamond. Compresso!" he pointed his wand at a lump of coal. He conjured more coal with his other hand even as the conjured coal fused together. The Compression Charm was one of his favorite dueling spells - it could be used to 'increase battlefield gravity' even if it only affected the target. After several moments, the opponent would be squished to a pulp. It was nice to discover another use for it.

Time passed quickly for Harry - focusing magic was a very intensive procedure that ultimately took men and women away from sleep, food and even their lovers. On the cusp of discovery, Harry spent hour after hour creating a slim diamond rod, a thousand times or more effective than his other creations.

"Percutio!" he cried, pointing at the wall. The Fate/Kaleidoscope rune in his Royal Eye glowed, and he felt himself pulling in power from other existences of himself.

The Piercing Charm shuddered as it hit the wall and bounced off the warded Hogwarts Stone. He frowned, staring at the Runic Wand, realizing that day had become night.

The spell seemed murky to his eyes, with a certain iridescence that he had never seen before.

He had made more progress in acquiring a strength unlike any other. A Miraculous Power. He was rather pleased.

The wand shuddered.

_Crack_.

The wand split into a million pieces, and fell from his hands as dust.


	48. Finale 4: The Eyes of Lord Voldemort

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harry Potter related. I don't own the Sharingan, or any other bloodlines lifted from Naruto. I don't really own much, honestly.

Author's Note: Four Hundred Thousand Hits. I love with all my heart.

Author's Note: I don't believe it. It appears that Kaleidoscope has inspired another work! .net/s/7195064/1/Magician_of_the_Fifth, written by Xanaris, replaces the Aozaki family with the Potters, and is far more steeped in the Nasu-verse than my work.

Author's Note: You better enjoy this. It wasn't updated for two days because I was at the doctors, and I was, after that, very lazy. Also, if you go on my profile, there's a Fire Emblem story called Epidelekos. As a literary work, it's crap, and Doug is an obvious part self insert, part Mary Sue. But, ever since I began learning how to hack the FE7 rom, I've been thinking of starting a massive three-generation (pre FE7, following Doug's youth, FE7, following Doug as a tactician, and FE6, following Doug as... well, if I ever make it, I'll link it, since it'll basically be a fangame that you might enjoy) game that would span between eighty and a hundred chapters.

Author's Note: Subliminal advertising for Miracle-Gro is meant to make you rage.

**Mangekyo**

The Third and Final Task. A maze to run through, in order to touch the Triwizard cup before everyone else. The winner would be Portkeyed back to the Judge's Table. Those who didn't make it would be retrieved by Dumbledore and Moody, hopefully in one piece.

Harry rolled his eyes as he stepped lively... into a Quicksand charm trap. He didn't even pause as he snapped the strands of magic that were bleeding off it, only to realize that there was actually a natural variety of quicksand beneath the Quicksand charm.

"Clever. Fuego de los Reyes Azules." Bluebell flames which burned with a huge amount of Harry's magic hit the sand and burned it into glass. A quick Flamefreezing charm ensured that Harry himself wasn't burned, and a Blunting charm ensured he wasn't cut by the flying glass.

He cursed under his breath at the time he had wasted. Undoubtedly, Fleur was near the Cup already, even with his head start.

"Point me", he whispered, then cast a Hovercraft charm to speed through the maze, avoiding another Quicksand charm which seemed to also shoot gobs of acid. "Brutal", he muttered as he traversed the sand and grass of the Quidditch Pitch. It appeared that choosing Entrance Thirteen (of twenty) had been a bad idea after all. While Harry wasn't superstitious of arithmantically evil numbers, it appears that the tournament's creators thought it would be funny to conform to-

He dodged a flying blade, which would have most likely taken off an arm if he hadn't.

"Arresto Momentum", he said, pointing his Holly wand at the blade which was coming back for a second swing. Sometimes, simpler spells did it better.

"Napadaji ledu a vetru sedi puste hory... Tleskat!" Instantly, every single trap that was about to go off, the slowed blade, and most of Harry's hair froze under the weight of the Czech Snapfreeze charm. Sometimes, more complicated spells were necessary.

He whispered the countercurse, pointing to himself, and then sat on a small snowbank, feeling out for the magic of the hedge.

It was a work of Albus Dumbledore - the magic had an almost sacred feeling to it, as if it were beyond the comprehension of mere humans. Harry, who was no stranger to miracles, knew that the hedge was almost a miracle grow. His respect for the man grew further.

To destroy a single portion of the hedge was to destroy the entirety, sending it into the ether and clearing a path for everyone. Short of utilizing Caliburn, he would be unable to catch the other contestants if they were further. It would also allow the various _things_ in the maze run rampant.

He groaned in frustration. "Point me."

He turned a corner and the groan became a rapid eye twitch as something hideous shot a glob of fire at him.

"_This_ is a Blast-ended Skrewt?" he wondered out loud. It was a disgusting creation, that had possibly been treated with the same miracle growing solution the maze was. Fire crab hybrids were generally tiny, from what he read. He mentally reminded himself to congratulate Hagrid for doing something worthy of a published arti-

He dodged another, larger gout of flame, returning fire with a Stunner. The Stunner bounced off a magically resistant shell.

"Reducto." The blasting curse rebounded at him, and he ducked easily, frowning.

Harry twisted his wand, then jabbed it at the Skrewt. "Percutio!" He dodged the rebounded spell as well as another burst of fire.

"Okay, that does it. Le briser brises", he muttered. The Dueling Curse that Fleur had taught him, known as the Smasher in French circuits jumped out of his wand. The aquamarine spell, considered a Class B curse, travelled through the air and impacted the shell. It promptly flew back at Harry with a vengeance.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the approaching spell, sidestepping it at the last moment.

"Herdulma!" he cried. The Arabic edition of the Destruction curse swirled at the tip of his wand. He dashed forward and tapped the shell with the spell, decaying the Skrewt, killing it with old age. He stared with morbid curiosity as it shrivelled up in death.

He walked past quickly, jumping over yet another quicksand trap. It was sort of tiring to walk back several steps and give running leaps, but he wanted to save his Charge Step for more urgent things.

He decided not to confront the Sphinx up ahead and took another route, leading to a pair of acromantulas, both of which clicked their pincers simultaneously.

"You're sort of ugly. Demonicheskie Payal'naya Lampa." Red fire flew out of the tip of his wand. Harry pointed it at the large spiders and they lit up in a beautiful and deadly show of lights. The smell of burning, rancid flesh filled his throat, and he coughed several times. He didn't relinquish control of the spell.

A burning spider got up painfully.

"I don't like spiders. Reducto ad pulvis." The M-designated Blasting Curse, which Harry usually used wandlessly, sprayed onto the spider, annihilating it. Harry stared at the smoking Holly in distaste, realizing that the crack in it had branched. He could possibly get some vaguely magical and extremely powerful spells casted utilizing a branch and his knowledge of the sixteen rune series, but there was something special about _his_ wand. He thought it had something to do with the symbolism.

He rounded another corner, and his bottle-green left eye locked onto the cup. His Right Eternity observed a strange scene of Cedric Diggory locked against a hedge with a clearly powerful Dark binding curse, and Fleur dueling Viktor Krum.

"The fuck?"

Krum turned to him, and Harry realized that a small black string representing the Imperius had been cast at him. He weighed his options. If he simply snapped it, and didn't utilize the eight charms that Dumbledore had cast, he might damage the boy permanently. He was too far to touch his wand to Krum's temple, which was necessary for at least two of the charms.

"Expelliarmus", he muttered, going for 'as nonlethal as possible'. It was clear that Fleur had been doing the same, without result, after several tense seconds of spell exchange.

"Move!" he roared, half-pushing Fleur out of the way as a Liver Smasher splashed over the hedge behind them.

"A King must smite his subjects without killing them!" he continued, still shouting. His voice rang with the practically beautiful casting of the Aria. "Stupefy!"

A pair of bright red lights appeared along the length of his wand and in the palm of his left hand. He drew the Hanzi for 'speed' in the air, brought his hands together, and sent a blast of Stun at Krum which ripped through the other boy's shield in a second. Fleur cut Cedric loose.

"That was... eventful", Harry decided. He turned, to the cup to see Cedric lunging for it.

"Dishonorable!" he admonished as he too grabbed for the cup. They touched the handle at the same time, and it activated, a spray of blue sparks appear along the rim. Harry stared for a moment, wondering why so much power had been applied to a local-distance Portkey.

In the blink of an eye, Cedric and Harry were standing in a graveyard which Harry had never had the misfortune of visiting before. It was rather stereotypical, with dead trees and decayed leaves. It smelled of Potions ingredients.

"Wand out", Harry muttered. Cedric had forgotten about their dispute already.

"Kill the spare", came a high cold voice, punctuated by a throb from Harry's scar.

"Move!" Harry shouted again, knocking Cedric out of the way. The Killing Curse that left a small man's wand hit the headstone they stood next to, and a chunk of rock exploded outward, hitting a downed Cedric in the head.

There was an inexorable tugging that Harry associated with the Black Flame all of a sudden.

"Am I drugged?" he wondered out loud. It could have been a muggle sleeping agent, slipped into his drink, or cooked into his food. He had eaten two meals - ample time for anything to take effect.

"No." A spike of haziness spread through him, and he was relieved that his control over the Fifth Miracle seemed to be purging it for him.

Then he realized that he hadn't been drugged.

There was only one explanation for it, even as he fought it.

His soul was pulled through the Kaleidoscope, and a specter of him appeared next to a bound Alyssa Potter.

"What in the fuck?" he asked, unhappily noting his second use of profanity that night.

His wand flashed, and the spell tore through the bounds that held Alyssa against the Headstone, and the small man, also present in his world, squeaked.

"You're Peter Pettigrew", Harry remarked, feeling significantly calmer suddenly. Pettigrew was, by all accounts, a mediocre wizard.

"H-help me, Harry. H-he took my blood", Alyssa murmured, coughing slightly. It was clear that she had been caught by surprise, and judging from the way she stood, she had been slammed against the headstone (which the Killing Curse had destroyed in his world). "He's resurrected Voldemort."

Sure enough a white figure, bereft of genitalia, with demonic red eyes and slits for a nose rose out of a large cauldron.

"That's disgusting", Harry stared. The figure in white grabbed the outstretched wand.

"Alyssa Potter. And an unknown party."

"The Power you Know Not", Alyssa shouted back, regaining some of her strength.

Voldemort frowned, and Harry looked between them, confused. There was quite a bit of capitalization in Alyssa's words, as if they were supposed to mean something special.

"Thissss boy?" Voldemort wondered, his voice becoming a sibilant hiss. "Avada Kedavra!"

Harry calmly uprooted a statue of an angel, overgrown with vines, with his his non-dominant hand and threw it in the way of the curse. The statue exploded, sending shrapnel everywhere. He pulled Alyssa out of the way as he snatched pieces of rubble and threw them back with Repelling Charms at Voldemort, still using his hand.

"Interesting", smirked the Dark Lord of Alyssa Potter's world, as he threw several rather uninspired Dark Curses. Harry dodged the majority and easily shielded the rest.

"He's weak right now. He's just been revived", said Alyssa, rather helpfully. "It's the ritual of Bone, Flesh and Blood."

Harry roared in laughter. "Amaterasu!" he cried, and flames that were hot enough to incinerate souls tore out of his right Eye at speeds that a weakened Voldemort could comprehend, but couldn't dodge, burning the man the man into ash within seconds.

Harry drew thirty two soul-entrapment runes within the next fifteen seconds, and the escaping spirit of Lord Voldemort was pulled into in a Mesopotamian Soul Cage.

"Did I just catch Lord Voldemort in a _cage_?" Harry wondered, looking amused. He suddenly paused, horror dawning upon his features. "My body. It's back in _my_-"

"You have my apologies", Alyssa said grimly, who had caught on quite suddenly. "Go!" she shouted, with palpable worry.

Harry ripped through the fabric of Space-Time with the Royal Kaleidoscope, landing back in his own body.

He noticed a dripping wound, and a (thankfully) robed Lord Voldemort across from him. His own Lord Voldemort was frowning.

"None of my Reviving Charms worked, nor did the three electric shocks I sent your way, Harry Potter. I am capable of drawing conclusions, Potter. Do tell Lord Voldemort how you managed to... faint so thoroughly."

There was a peal of laughter in the background. Harry idly glanced at a still-unconscious Cedric Diggory, and then looked around. There were nearly thirty men in masks standing around in the background.

Lines of magic connected each of their arms to Voldemort, who appeared to be siphoning magic off of them.

This Voldemort had just a minute to prepare, but was already far more dangerous. Harry easily snapped the ropes binding him, and summoned his wand to his hand with a whispered word. There was a bit of resistance, then it tore through one of Pettigrew's fingers. Harry noticed that the man had a silver hand, and knew that it was a replacement for that which was lost during the ritual of Bone, Flesh and Blood.

"Shall we duel?" Harry asked clearly, his voice ringing over the final resting places of muggle men and women. Harry noticed that the entirety of Voldemort's birth family had been buried in the graveyard.

"You have not answered my question, Harry Potter."

"Do you seriously believe you deserve an answer?"

There was a histrionic gasp from the Death Eaters. "He dares to defy our Lord", came a particularly hard cackle from a pair of twins.

"You dare defy Lord Voldemort?"

"You sound like a B-movie villain." Harry smirked. In truth, he was far more tense than he let on, and he was buying time to build up his Charge Step.

Voldemort frowned. "Do not mock me, boy. We shall duel. Now _bow_, Harry Potter." Strands of magic raced at him, but Harry snapped them easily.

Voldemort's frown deepened, bringing a truly disgusting look to his already ugly face. Harry realized there was, for the first time, a hint of worry on Voldemort's face.

"Tell me, Tom Riddle-"

"Do not use that name!"

"Tom Riddle, have you ever dueled Albus Dumbledore?"

Voldemort snarled at him and whispers permeated the tense silence.

"I have. I even won. Do you want to know how, Tom Riddle?" Harry had gotten the derisive use of his opponent's full name to a tee.

Voldemort frowned. Harry idly observed that his hands shook with anticipation, and a small sheen of sweat had appeared on the man's knuckles. There was a certain putrid magic to it, and Harry realized that he wasn't the only one stalling - Voldemort was still recycling the magic within his body, despite the facade of readiness.

"With just two words, really. Fly, Caliburn!"

For a moment, there was a perfect expression of shock on Tom Riddle's face.

Then it changed.

The red Eyes, once a corruption of the Mage Sight, circulated Harry's blood and picked up on Voldemort's intense moment of fear.

And then there were a pair of comma marks in each eye. While it was certainly not quick enough to perceive Caliburn on its own, the two-tomoed Sharingan was augmented by Voldemort's already formidable abilities. Riddle sidestepped quickly - not quick enough, a fist still knocked his left arm off.

Harry thought of cursing Alyssa for a moment, but realized that he had probably saved his own life, and decided to begin dueling with powers that he knew there was no true counter to.

"Bringer of Storm and Seas, Susano'o no Mikoto. Arrows of Fate and Fortune Rain upon my Enemies!"

The gold and silver mist of Harry's Soul Materialization formed into a huge longbow. Harry pulled back the bow and began firing at the Death Eaters.

The arrows leaked out of his left Eye in an unlimited supply as Harry skewered each of them, taking them to a state of bliss not unlike the effects of the Ten Hands Longsword.

It was not a peaceful bliss. The crazed moans resounded through the night. Harry had no doubt that the residents of the town a kilometer to the East must have thought an orgy was occurring in the graveyard.

He did not feel a shred of guilt. The Arrows of the Storm God were like nothing in the world, a materialization of all the pleasure that he had ever felt.

He hated the Arrows for being so perfectly efficient and lifechanging. He hated the fact that they were built off orgasms inspired by Misery and Avalon juxtaposed side by side.

He hated the Arrows for doing what no other spell could.

Within twelve seconds, all the Death Eaters had been incapacitated. The less intelligent ones would never wake. Those with some semblance of willpower would chase pleasure with excesses of sensations they could _feel_ for the rest of their life, unable to understand why their world had become so bland.

Harry's Holly and Phoenix feather wand was aimed directly at Tom's heart.

Tom's lesser Eyes of Misery spun as sensory overload overtook him.

"Such power this is, Harry Potter", said the high cold voice at last. "I confess that I will find it difficult to concentrate on killing you in this stage. We will meet on... a later date."

Some sort of emergency Portkey was activated, and Voldemort was pulled into the void quicker than Harry could snap the strands of the magic.

"Fuck."

Harry looked around as a loud rumbling of sorts was heard.

He turned around and realized that there were three crystals emitting a sort of resonance that was clearly unnatural.

"Demons. Archdemons. Accio Triwizard Cup!"

The Cup struck the unconscious body of Cedric Diggory and pulled the boy away from the graveyard.

"Fuck."

In that moment, a huge claw tore through the air, smelling strongly of Brimstone. It narrowly missed Harry's head, smashing several gravestones easily.

Harry jumped back, his Royal Eye activating as he surveyed the three behemoths that had appeared before him.

The first seemed to be a very generic variety of demon, complete with the huge horned head and the claws.

The second was a bit smaller, and a very cold shade of blue. Its eyes were quite intelligent. It paced back and forth, allowing snowflakes to form wherever it walked.

The third demon did not look like a demon at all, but for a swishing leathery tail. There was a sort of twisted hedonism radiating from her voluptuously sculpted body.

They sized Harry up.

"_You did this_?" the demon of Ice wondered aloud, finally. He pointed to the writhing Death Eaters, locked in the throes of orgasm.

"_I think I might just like you_", said the Succubus, her voice taking on strands of magic that reminded Harry strongly of the Basilisk. He would put the strength of the newly summoned demon below the thousand year old snake, however, despite the fact that he couldn't suppress the shudder of sheer anticipation that tingled through his extremities as she spoke. The other two demons were not affected.

"_Are you the Summoner_?" the demon of Fire asked.

"No", Harry enunciated clearly. Those who summoned Demons owed them debts by default, and those who admitted to such actions when none were taken owed such debts as well.

"_But only my summoner gets to play with me_", Succubus whined, the spade at the tip of her tail flicking a hardening nipple.

Harry quashed the unnatural lust with his ability in Occlumency.

"_That is the truth. Only our Summoner may interact with us with any sort of peace. You have confronted us. You must die, boy_." Ice sent a spear of his element at Harry faster than a human eye could see, but Harry didn't have human eyes.

"Burn." Black flames leaked out of his right Eye and ate through the overly quick icicle in no time at all. Ice growled, but did not continue to fire.

"_We were summoned with Hate, Inhuman Realism and Lust, boy. Where is our Summoner, I repeat_", boomed Fire.

Succubus winked. "_Oh, I think it's rather obvious_."

"_Do tell_", came the dry voice of Ice.

"_Don't you feel it? He's somehow assimilated the humanity of others. You're far more monstrous than we can ever aspire to be, boy._" Succubus sidled up to him. "_What's your name_?"

Harry frowned and opened his mouth to reply. _When demons ask you a question, answering truthfully would destroy any power the question has._ Fleur's advice sounded like a gong.

"My name is Harry P-"

The blue sparks of an arriving Portkey sprayed everywhere, causing Harry to jump back as the Succubus slashed at him with her claws, thinking that he had attacked.

The claw was caught along the slim blade of the Delacour Rapier. "The package she received when the Task started", he muttered to himself.

"Demons!" Fleur screeched musically. If any other girl had taken that tone, it would have been painful, but the siren call of her Veela gentics softened it.

"_Demonslayer!_" Ice roared, his own claws expanding in size.

A huge surge of magic emanated from Fleur - one that Harry had never encountered. _A dormant circuit_? he wondered.

The Rapier was sheathed in a flashing white glow as it danced through the air. Harry was reminded that he had only ever defeated Fleur because of his Right Eternity.

Fleur looked to be in extreme pain as she dueled the three demons, her sword deflecting both flame and frost even as her willpower pushed through the mental machinations of the Succubus. Harry liked to believe that their Occlumency practice helped.

Occlumency was a bit of a double edged sword when one was playing with blades. While it kept the user from panicking, little flashes of inspiration that won duels barely ever occurred. It was a defensive measure, and not something Fleur enjoyed using.

But she seemed to be concentrating far more on her Occlumency than it was required to break free from the hold of even the Archdemon.

Or was it? While Fleur's mind hadn't been affected, her body was clearly aching with need. Harry watched helplessly, realizing he couldn't interject with the Crimson Ruby without breaking Fleur's flow, which would probably end in her death. Harry felt the stirrings of physical desire just as fully, and was glad that he had such control over it - his Royal Eye had trained him to ignore the majority of felt stimulus.

And then he knew that Fleur was not relying on Occlumency to shield herself from any sort of talent of the Archdemons.

A pair of feathery white wings burst out of her back.

"Half Veela", he muttered, wincing. Physical transformations _always_ hurt when non-full Veelas pushed themselves to that level. The wings were all but decorative on Fleur, not granting even a hint of flight. Unfortunately, they were rather large targets. Fleur screamed in pain as her wings were charred by a bolt of fire.

Fleur stood proudly immediately afterward, and a temporary ceasefire simply occurred.

"_You are strong. Perhaps you would have had a chance against any of us fighting alone_", boomed Fire.

"Dans la lumière du matin, les cieux et les saints sourient."

"_What was that_?" said Ice. Harry idly noted that his voice had a harsh sound to it.

"Un millier de points de lumiere. Une brillante pensée: Châtier les impurs... Pour ce, je vous offre ma foi..."

"_French? An Englishman summoned us_", joked Succubus, who had probably understood every word.

"De ce qui rassemble la magie entre moi...et ma cible... L'extérieur et l'intérieur se rejoignent. Ma vie est la dévotion à la Lumière. Ma vie est la dévotion à l'honneur. La bénédiction de ceux qui enfreignent les démons viennent à moi.

Si j'échoue tout, laissez-moi ne manquera pas..."

Harry chanted in English along with her. "My life is devotion to the Light. My life is devotion to honor. The blessing of those who kill demons come to me. If I fail all else, may I not fail..."

"_Nine lines... Soul Aria!_" Succubus gasped, taking to the sky, a pair of leathery wings beating frantically. Fire and Ice weren't so lucky.

"Humanité."

"Humanity."

Fleur drew the Delacour Rapier across and a sheet of Hallowed magic, far more condensed than Harry had ever seen before, cut Fire and Ice in half.

The single moment of shock was captured forever in Harry's Eyes. He watched as the husks of the Demons shrivelled in the same way the Skrewt he killed had.

The sound of rapidly beating wings were heard.

Fleur pointed her wand at the sky, but the single spell she had the strength left to fire went wide.

There was a crack of Apparition as the first Aurors appeared on the scene.


	49. Intermezzo

Disclaimer: I don't own... come on, after forty nine chapters, do I have to continue this?

**Author's Note - Angry Edition: It appears that some of you don't like the way this story is going. If you trust that I know what I'm doing, don't read it. It might come off as a bit offensive. Otherwise, please do.**

I'm going to say this once, and never again.

Everything happens for a reason. I will not be pandering to reviewers who want to see this or that happen, because everything and its sequel, prequel and thirty five spinoffs are all planned. Okay. Maybe not thirty five. More like eight. But every single thing that's happened in the Kaleidoscopeverse (truly, it is its own universe now) has happened... for a reason. Voldemort has a Sharingan now. Think carefully of exactly what the Sharingan's represented throughout this story. Is it a specific skill set? Or is it a trademark? Or is it actually a concept? Whose had a Sharingan? What is the author trying to do?

Writing, in my noob (according to the folks, well, everywhere) opinion, is about making hard choices that will both advance character development and the plot. Think about the situation at the moment. Sure, there's a whole bunch of you who want to see Super!Harry go on a domination spree. There's elements of that, for sure - all the business about kings and all. There's also a whole bunch of you who want to see Harry as a powerless hero until the very end, Eleventh Hour Superpower style. There's a bunch of clues that lead that way too! There are even some of you who want to see Harry in a Harem, some of you who want to see Harry in a Hermionecentric relationship. There's at least one person who wants me to (I shit you not) "ice that bookworm bitch!".

This story, despite its beginnings, has evolved beyond the first six chapters (me fapping to the Sharingan), beyond the first thirteen chapters (me fapping to cool Harry), beyond the first thirty five chapters (me fapping to Nasu). The direction of this story has been set from wet clay into pottery into fucking _marble_ in the last month.

And if everything happened for a reason _before_ these recent chapters?

Everything happens for a reason now. Perhaps you don't like the reason. Tough luck. I don't mean to sound facetious, but I'm the goddamn writer. If it pisses you off so much that you can't read it anymore, just don't read it. You're supposed to be enjoying this as much as I am. If you're not, then stop reading. Since the beginning, this has been little more than a pleasure fic, and even now, it's more engaging if you read it without much seriousness.

Think I'm an asshole? Well. I've been holding that back for forty eight chapters. I spend four days writing the fourth finale to my satisfaction and just talking with my Beta for hours and hours. And you tell me that you don't like the _direction_ of the story? Jesus Christ! I'm perfectly cool with JayGray, who believes that it felt rushed, and I should have written more. But if you're going to tell me that having Voldemort steal Harry's power isn't original, I really want to read what you're reading.

Remember, this fic is grammatical. It sort of puts it in the upper tier of what's expected of this website. It's not a masterpiece, but I've spent over two hundred hours just writing it. Planning it? I'll have you know that I _dream_ about the world of the Kaleidoscope now. I'll be playing Urban Terror (my shitty FPS of choice) to relax from the writing, and I'd think, "hey, wouldn't it be cool if Daphne..." This story has become a part of my life, and I know it's become a part of many of your lives as well. Daily updates are daily, remember?

If you want it out of your life, desubscribe. But don't hand me cease and desist notices through anonymous reviews.

I've been really fucking nice. I've answered every question that wasn't fucking retarded. I've made it a goal to make sure people are clear as to what happened when they give confused reviews. I've typed hours worth of analysis to random Joes living somewhere across the Hudson or the Atlantic, some of whom didn't even reply. I have spent nearly as much time writing as I have conversing with my Betas.

If you don't like how this was done, go write a Sharingan!Harry fic done right. If it's better than mine, I'll have a bunch of fun reading it. If it's not, prepare to be on this side of the fence known as Nightmare, because it's fucking hard to write. I don't want your shitty ideas to kill my shitty story. I want _my_ shitty ideas to kill my shitty story, mmkay?

Remember that I'm writing _this_ instead of what I really, really want to do - a rehash of my Fire Emblem story so I can make it into a Fangame. Excuse me for being an asshole, but I spend five to six hours a day on this (rather than that, or playing a duty-free-stress-killing FPS, or reading fanfiction myself). If you spent five or six hours a day analyzing this POS story, you'd give Voldemort a Sharingan too.

tl;dr: If it's unreadable, don't read it. Otherwise, have faith, you heathens!

**Mangekyo**

Anonymous Reviewer Meh: While your name has summed up what you think of my story at the moment, it also sums up what I think of certain parts of your review. See Angry Author's Note looking right at you up there.

Several Reviewers: Excuse me, how much blood was necessary to transfer Lily's Protection? From the magical aspect, that was. How much DNA does a drop of blood have? Every single cell in your body has a nucleus. Therefore, every single cell has your damned genetic makeup. The Sharingan is an overpoweringly powerful bloodline that seems to reside within the body, by genetic chance (some of the Uchiha don't have it). Guess whose body is made of a femur bone, a hand, and a bit of blood held together by magic? Have some freaking imagination! I know a lot of you are using it as a vehicle to express outrage over Sharingan!Voldemort.

Author's Interlude: Did you know Sharingan!Harry wasn't my first idea? It was Sharingan!Voldemort. Red Eyes. Think on it. Then Kaleidoscope happened, and I knew where I wanted to take this story. Please see the angry author's note right up there.

Anonymous Reviewer Blah: I liked your review a lot more than meh's review. You seem to have the same criticism as JayGray - that nothing is fleshed out as it was. Well, I liked the first bit more. I'm going to have to refer you to the angry author's note up there.

Strike: I can't say I agree with you about the womenfolk in my stories - I think you're looking too specifically. Every single one of my characters that I've ever written as important to the story have been somewhat insane, honestly. If you look past the abominations like A Thousand Hands or the Immortal Eyes, and to the less polished works like the Master of Death or the Seal and the Sword, the majority of the entities are sort of crazy in their own way, male or female. It's just that there's an abundance of women in _this_ story that seems to lead you to that conclusion.

Aloysius: Hmm, I think a rebirthing ritual has more magical significance than a blood transfusion... the body cycles its blood, remember? So a drop in the veins would not be quite enough to change the entire DNA makeup of your body. If you were born of that drop of blood (as Voldemort was born of a bone, Peter and a drop of Harry's), it's far more plausible. I'm glad, at least, that your review had substance.

**Mangekyo**

He was old now.

It seemed that each day passed with a different speeds. On days in which he got news, he would make newspaper clippings and spend the entire day with a pair of scissors. On other days, he would lose himself in the only magic left to him, that of the Mind.

It also worked on the guards, and he had attempted to escape in Nineteen Sixty Seven. He had actually gotten to Hamburg before he was recaptured.

Nowadays, the only presences he saw were House Elves - invisible to those who didn't look hard enough, but perfectly within the range of his vision.

His eyes ran over his bimonthly news packet again, and reread the commentary of this year's Rome Duels.

"James Evans. Another rising star. Will you crash and burn like Tom Riddle as well?"

"I doubt it."

The voice was familiar. Very familiar.

The last time he had heard it was December of Nineteen Forty Five.

It was the voice that had given wings to his dreams.

It was the voice that had ruined his life, his love, and put him in direct confrontation against the world. The voice that poisoned his thoughts, that helped him discover his love of dominance over fellow man.

"Lady Kingmaker." His joints creaked as he sank to his knees. No tears came to his eyes, but a sob built in his throat, and his chest hurt very strangely. There was a slight itch from the faded seal on his stomach.

"Gellert. My dear Gellert."

He bit his lip. Feet appeared in front of his face, but he didn't look up, reverent to the very end.

"You were always a failure."

Tendrils of anger gripped him.

"You failed to take the Gift of Merlin, despite my help."

"Livius liked him more", he mutterefd traitorously, unable to refrain from his hundred-year-old argument.

"I sealed the most powerful archdemon that could be summoned into your navel."

He was silent.

"Yet you were still beaten. You didn't even manage to escape. _Look at me_."

He slowly brought his eyes upward.

She was a beautiful woman.

The only one who had ever stirred any sort of passion in him.

He hated her for it.

"You've always liked this form, haven't you?"

A flash of shame flitted across his face.

"Don't be coy, Gellert. You're hardly the only homosexual I've had relations with. But after all these years?" A cruel smile lit up her features.

Words from a book he had loved in the early years of his incarceration. _Not dark, but beautiful and terrible as the Morn_.

He was human, and he had repented. She was not, and she had never even believed she had been wrong in any capacity.

"I love Albus", he said softly. "I've always loved Albus. I doubt he truly loved me back, even before the incident, but you... you took something precious from me. Something that belonged to him."

"You mortals are all the same. I give you pleasure greater than anything you've ever experienced or will ever experience again, I give you the dreams of humanity, and you guilt-trip me about Albus Dumbledore?"

"You don't look very guilty."

The same conversation had been repeated several times over the years, and at this point, Gellert was wise enough not to truly care about her lack of humanity anymore.

"I hate you."

"You don't. You just wish you did."


	50. The Eyes of a Broken Wand

Disclaimer: I don't own... anything but the teflon on my chest and the gun on my stomach. Actually, I don't own any teflon. Or a gun. I have maybe a hundred something in my wallet, an iPod and a phone. I have an eight-year-old Dell laptop running XP redux. It's from when I first started reading fanfiction. Unfortunately, I don't own Harry Potter, or anything else you recognize.

Check out my newest fic at .net/s/7259433/1/The_Hero

It's in the Fire Emblem fandom, but I believe it can be followed with little to no understanding of Fire Emblem itself...

Author's Note: Finale 4 is being edited for quality control. It will be fleshed out, and the demons will be more demonic. Bahahahaa.

Blah: Mmkay - suggestion duly noted. That's a pretty good idea, honestly.

Lousy Poet Automaton: Oh, I wish your PM was on :P But we can't have everything in life, eh? I agree with a large part of what you have down... However, I think you're missing part of the point. Most of my reviewers have remarked that Voldemort isn't exactly the biggest fish in Kaleidoscope. I agree - he is a Disc One or at best, Disc Two Villain. It's not giving away the plot if everyone knows that Harry's going to own him. If you look hard enough, you'll see the real villains. Meanwhile, your analysis on Harry's power is spot on - despite the fact that I rather approach it from a more positive light.

**Mangekyo**

"He's back", Harry said to the Aurors who had trained wands on him. "He's back, and he's stronger than before."

"What do you mean, Mr. Potter? Why are you here?"

"The Triwizard Cup was a dud. A portkey. Cedric and I touched it together. Cedric took it back and Fleur came. She then killed the two of the archdemons here. Arguably, the most dangerous one got away. She was definitely the most intelligent one. When I got here, I hit my head on one of the graves. My blood was taken", Harry growled, "and used to resurrect Voldemort."

"You're-"

"Entirely serious, Auror Shacklebolt. You're standing in the ash of a Fire Demon."

Shacklebolt sprang backwards and looked down. Harry had not been lying. Lightly charred earth and ash had been spread over the floor.

"You should really clean it up. There are very many nasty rituals that Demon Dust can be used in." Fleur had spoken in French. Harry translated.

Shacklebolt waved his wand several times and the ash and ice collected into a neat pile, which he siphoned into a Neverending Bag, or something similar.

"Unspeakables?" Harry asked.

"Right of conquest", muttered Fleur. "I need proof of Kill."

Harry translated. None of the Aurors looked very happy, but Shacklebolt handed the bag to Fleur.

"I win", crowed Fleur. She promptly passed out from the exhaustion.

Harry shook his head. "I will be going back to Hogwarts now. There are strong words to be had with whoever enchanted the Goblet. Accio cup."

Before any of the aurors could protest the Triwizard cup was in Harry's hand and Fleur was over his shoulder in a very precarious carry.

They disappeared in a flash of blue sparks.

**Mangekyo**

"Professor."

It seemed that the entirety of Hogwarts was milling about, leaving a small island of space at the judge's table.

It was eerily silent.

"Fleur's alive", Harry clarified.

There was a marked sigh of relief from the majority of the male population and the Delacours.

"I believe that whatever has occurred needs to be discussed Harry. My office, if you will." Dumbledore and Harry walked off into the castle.

"I need to speak, in order, to you, Nicholas Flamel, a Marshall from the Association, and the Wizengamot", Harry fired off. "There will be very many repercussions to what happened tonight. Voldemort has risen from his grave."

Albus Dumbledore whispered several words into the air, and Fawkes appeared at his shoulder.

"Find Nicholas please. Tell him that I require his presence urgently" he muttered at the bird, which let out a musical trill and vanished in a flash of flame.

A flash of flame was seen as Fawkes returned, and the figure of Nicholas Flamel appeared before the pair, even as a portal opened. Harry stared at it intently, marveling at the brute-force use of the Truth. Kamui was far more subtle a skill than whatever the wizard teleporting to them was using.

The wind howled for a moment, and Lorelei Barthomeloi somehow _blew_ into existence, her mithril claw hanging from her left hand, and her hair down. Her riding crop was present, as it possibly contained a magical amplification device, but she had been dressed for exercise.

The figure of Aoko Aozaki grew out of the ground, her red hair dancing in rhythm with her loose white t-shirt, carrying the briefcase that Harry had bought her several months previously. She swayed for some reason - possibly due to Lorelei's wind.

"Ladies and Gentlemen", Harry began. He frowned. "Voldemort has returned", Harry announced. "He has gained access to power that he had never possessed previously, the power of Salazar Slytherin, the power of the Peverell Brothers. My bloodline." He growled. "This is a terrible time for me to reveal a lost Blood to the world, but I stand here to issue an ultimatum to the Dark Lord Voldemort. I have a mandate of Fate to kill him."

"Very well. I will lend the resources of the Sea of Estray, Harry Potter. You have earned as much. However, there are things we must speak of."

Lorelei sauntered up to Harry, her walk full of confidence and nobility. "Fuck off, _James_."

"Yeah! Fuck me!" cried Aoko. Harry realized, upon his second look, that she was, in fact, extremely drunk. He groaned. It _was_ a Friday night.

"Aoko", warned Nicholas, turning a critical eye at her.

"Why is everyone here anyway? Wasn't only the Lord Philosopher called?" Harry asked Dumbledore.

Fawkes trilled, and Harry understood.

Aoko dunked a Sobering Potion into her mouth and her eyes focused.

"Now, to business."

**Mangekyo**

"Six months doesn't sound terrible, Harry."

"I can only imagine how much information he has. So much to read. So much to-"

"Hermione", Daphne said quietly.

Harry was taking it as a personal failure. Despite his resistance to the idea, Nicholas Flamel had gained him as an asset to the Sea of Estray for sixth months. At the end of the six months, he would assist Harry in destroying Voldemort forever.

He hadn't believed Voldemort of be much of a threat before, but now that he had something of Harry's...

He growled. Those Eyes were his. He had been the only living person to have them, and since Voldemort had taken his blood.

Black flames leaked out of both his Right Eternity and his wand.

He held the wand up to the light again and stared grimly at the single hairline crack which had become a pair of hairline cracks. It was now somewhat similar to smashed glass, with little splits and fault-lines that transformed the damage into little spiderwebs that ran along the length of the Holly.

He drew the wand into a backflick and then threw his arm forward. "Rimas animam!"

Black liquid leaked out of his wand and pooled on the floor in front of him.

"It's officially unusable", Harry said.

"Your wand..."

The Souleater Curse had been performed several minutes earlier by Hermione.

Harry waved his left hand carelessly and the same black liquid splashed onto a chair, disintegrating it.

"Reparo!" Daphne shouted, tracing a Nordic rune into the air. The now blue-grey spell hit Harry's wand, but the wand just shuddered slightly.

"I've been doing that since third year, when the first crack formed."

Harry held the wand up to the light again. The cracks had widened.

"Amaterasu!" The black Flames had a sluggish feeling even as they left his wand obediently, but the wand shivered under the strain.

"Do you think it's alive?" Harry wondered. "Have I killed my wand?"

There was no response from either Hermione or Daphne.

"I'm going to go see Ollivander. Kamui."

Harry reappeared in the Diagon Alley Apparition point, casting spells to obscure his identity.

He walked into Ollivander's shop, and the door tinkled. As usual, the Wandmaker was hiding under a weak, but well-crafted Invisibility Charm.

"Harry Potter", Ollivander sighed, "What can I do for you today?"

"My wand."

Harry held it out.

"Truly, I have never seen so much magic channeled before, even from Albus Dumbledore's old wand."

Harry frowned. "Perhaps you can make me a custom wand? Have me hold my hand over several magical substances and have my core seek me out?"

Ollivander gave a chuckle. "Wandlore is a complex art, but I assure you that such a practice is only in works of fiction. I believe the Red Demon by Aloysius Sweeting is the worst offender of this. Your mother asked me the same question in her second year during her back-to-school visit to Diagon Alley, and was quite disappointed to know that multi-cored wands were rare not because of their power, but because no respectable wandmaker would botch up a wand so terribly as to need another core."

"Then perhaps I can make a staff by using my blood and a diamond?"

They both shared a laugh.

"Maybe", Ollivander lowered his voice in a mock-dramatic tone. "Maybe you can take the body parts of s-seven different Class A restricted beasts", he choked in laughter, "and jam pack them into a tiny wand shop in Knockturn Alley, and make the staff out of Elven Crystal and Mithryl."

The laughter died down after a short while.

"Is there nothing you can do within reason to fix my wand?" Harry wondered.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter. It is damaged far beyond repair, even by the greatest of magic. Your wand has been so saturated in different forces that it has reached a critical point in which a perfect repair would possibly detonate it and turn it into pure energy."

"Should I choose a new wand then?"

"No. A wizard that uses his wand for so long would be unfit for any other. I'm sorry to tell you that no wand will work for you, not like your wand has."

"Thank you Mr. Ollivander."

"It is always a pleasure to work with bright wizards, Mr. Potter."

Harry walked out the door and disappeared, feeling very disappointed with the proceedings.

**Mangekyo**

While Harry never actively hunted the criminals he brought to justice, today was different.

He was approaching his self-imposed deadline and well past that of Scathach. A slight pinch of demon dust had enough magic to analyze with regards to magical signature.

He walked through the hallways of Hogwarts, following a particular scent of sorts. Magic didn't truly have a scent but nowadays, even without opening his eyes, he could discern the subtle weaves of the art.

The signature brought him to a place he never expected.

Then the pieces fell into place.

Mad-Eye Moody did not duel like a Mage because he wasn't a mage.

The magic coursing through him had nothing to do with preserving his life.

It was another, more drawn out and far more blatant, Peter Pettigrew.

His mind ran through the possibilities and quickly settled on several potions that could mimic the appearances and voice of others. He decided it was Polyjuice Potion. While being somewhat difficult to brew by most standards, it was far easier than the Formshift Concoction and far more effective than the Facechange Draught.

His hand flashed silver as the door to the imposter's office blew open.

"You have been caught violating the sanctity of humanity", Harry intoned solemnly. "Have you any last words?"

"Avada Kedavra!"

A block of marble caught the curse in midair and it was vaporized instantly.

"That's not how you cast it. This is. Avada Kedavra!" Green light pooled at the tips of his finger, powered by a desire to kill that he had taken from a serial murderer through memories of Misery.

The green light washed over the man and he fell to the ground, dead.

Harry immediately began searching the room for clues of demon summoning.

There was nothing, anywhere. A trunk stood in the corner, the last item to be check.

"Alohamora."

There was a click, but the trunk didn't open.

_Snap_. The magic fell away and the trunk opened.

There was nothing of interest in the majority of the compartments.

He flipped open the last one and stared in shock at the barely breathing man at the bottom. The man was missing a good chunk of his leg.

"Definitely Polyjuice Potion, then." He pulled the real Alastor Moody out of the man's trunk, and levitated him towards Dumbledore's office.


	51. The Eyes of Mages

Disclaimer: I don't own this. I barely own my soul, let alone HP or the Sharingan.

Breached 2000 reviews. Holy crap.

Check out my newest fic at .net/s/7259433/1/The_Hero

Chooser: Wandless magic - Harry's capable of some heavy-duty stuff with it already. You can blame AFriendofAFriendofAFriend, because he was like "break his fucking wand already!"

anon: This fic absolutely sucks? Maybe. Lots of DLP people would agree with you. Cliche? Not at all. Find a better criticism, please. Or go read the angry author's note in chapter 49.

**Mangekyo**

The leaving feast was uneventful and fraught with little whispers about Harry's sanity. It appeared that the Daily Prophet had a right to run stories that involved the "entirety" of magical Britain - giving them room to discredit Harry. They still treaded lightly around his perceived issues, but the implications of his mental instability were as subtle as a hammer to the head.

Harry didn't mind. There was a huge divide in the opinions of the school. There were some who believed him entirely, some who thought he was barking mad, some who believed he'd been hit by a Confundus charm...

"How far are you with this Defense Association idea, Hermione?" Harry asked conversationally.

"I'll be ready to launch it by next year."

"Have you compiled a list of people to... visit this summer, Daphne?"

"I have."

Daphne stared into Harry's eyes and invited him to take a little excursion into her thoughts.

Harry caught a flash of nearly every magical race not of the Fae. Goblins and Veela and Vampires and Werewolves and-

"Thank you, Daphne", he muttered as information about lifestyles of each were sent along with the images.

"It appears that the political capital I possess on the Wizengamot is little to none. During the six months I have with Flamel, I'll be sure to work on cultivating a working relationship with Lady Barthomeloi."

"You're playing a dangerous game, Harry. she might not be capable of matching you in a duel, but the analysis of her spells prove that she is faster than you. And all her spells are lethal."

"I've seen her in action." Harry allowed a bit of worry to seep into his features.

"Don't go running off with Aoko Aozaki, Harry."

There was an awkward silence between the three of them.

Daphne finally settled her thoughts. "I love you, Harry."

"I know."

"You've got it wrong, Harry", whispered Hermione. "So wrong. We love you more than she does. Either of us-" Her lip quivered, but her resolve did not falter. "Either of us would break off our relationship with the other... for you."

For just a moment, Daphne looked absolutely furious, but it was gone in an instant - replaced by a look that was between blind trust and total devotion.

It disturbed Harry.

"Promise me, Harry", she said seriously. "Promise me that you're not going to run off with someone and never come back to me. To us."

Harry thought of Aoko. He promised anyway.

**Mangekyo**

Clock Tower.

It was _nearly _the greatest site of magical power in Britain.

It was an institution devoted to Magecraft of the purest form. As it was the prerogative of the Wizard to be wise, it was the prerogative of the Mage to cast powerful and terrible magic unlike any other.

"Identification?" came a misty voice from behind a too-tall receptionist's desk.

"I'm here by the grace of the Lord Philosopher."

"Identification", the voice warned.

"I have none."

"Identification", the voice threatened.

"Just ring up Aoko or Lorelei and they'll identify me for you."

The woman choked. "You wish for me to-"

"Direct me to either Blue or the Marshall. I realize the Lord Philosopher is ensconced in Prague at the moment."

"What's this?" came a cultured voice behind Harry. It was a man with orange-blond hair.

"Lord Edelfelt!" the receptionist exclaimed happily. "This young man wishes to see-"

"Either Blue or Marshall Barthomeloi."

Edelfelt stared at Harry in recognition. "You're the one who-"

"Yes. I seem to be the scapegoat for a lot of things lately. Will you direct me to either?"

He sneered. "Attend me!" he boomed.

Several girls dressed in maid uniforms ran to help.

"Take Mr. Evans to the Department of Universal Research. He is to... join us." The sneer grew more pronounced.

Harry followed a particularly perky maid through the catacombs under the British Museum where the majority of Clock Tower was located.

"Are you a powerful mage?" the maid wondered.

"Perhaps", Harry said, his mind still on the situation he left at Hogwarts.

"You must be very powerful to be taken before- oh my!"

The corridor they had been walking along had opened up into a huge auditorium.

Seated were the Flamels, each of the Wizard Marshalls and Aoko, the only primary Color in the Association.

The maid scurried away.

"I'm glad you can join us, Harry", came the voice of Flamel.

Harry's Royal Eye activated at the possible threats that surrounded him. A gnarled old man with scars about his face sat up suddenly.

"It appears that you will be with the Association for at least half a year, Mr. Potter."

Aoko radiated a certain sort of triumph that Harry had trouble ignoring.

"While you are with us, we will allow you to access anything a mage of your calibre should", came a deep, cultured drawl.

"Your Eyes", muttered the man that Harry had previously described as 'gnarly'. "Will you tell us a little about them? I did not believe Nicholas until..."

"It is a Blood trait, Lord Marshall."

The man's eyes glowed golden for a moment, and he stood suddenly. "You possess more than one of the Miracles."

"That is the truth."

This was knowledge known to the group in the room, but there was still uneasy whispers. Flamel's magnanimous smile stretched slightly thinner.

"What sorts of magic are you familiar with, Harry?" asked a shorter, middle-aged woman.

"A little bit, here and there."

"It matters not. He will be accompanying me to Prague", said Nicholas.

"Nicholas, he is a _treasure_."

There was a hint of malice that Harry didn't like.

"We will not bind him with a Sealing Designation."

"Do not pretend that you do not wish to, Nicholas!" The woman smirked. "A Sealing Designation is the highest honor, after all."

"He cannot be bound", said the gnarly man. "His Kaleidoscope is far too developed. I sense the influence of other worlds on him. And... I sense..."

"Avalon", Harry finally said.

"Are you insane, boy?" Nicholas shouted, his eyes bulging. "You broke into-"

"It matters not, Nicholas. His Noble Color is unaffected, nor is his Origin."

"What is a-" Harry began.

The gnarly man snorted. "A Noble Color is my perception of your magical Circuits. Your origin is what all your life has been, and will be, subject to change only by the most traumatic or defining moments. Our Noble Colors are alike."

"Alike?"

"We are both scions of the Kaleidoscope and thus, our Noble Colors are represented by the iridescence of a diamond, rather than a single shade."

Harry realized that he was capable of seeing Noble Colors, but that he had been ignoring them. He had not known the significance.

"He knows his Origin", said Lorelei. "He can manifest it as a Reality Marble."

It appeared that this bit of information was new. The Mages were staring at Harry in a completely different light now.

"I make a claim for Universal Research. I believe that Harry's final unexplored field are the Systems and such would allow him to come into contact with the other geniuses of his generation like m- my sister and Mr. Alba." Aoko's words were met with silence from all parties.

"I make a claim for Thule Society in light of the documents about his ability with the First runes."

"Claim for Sponheim Abbey. We..." the man who had not spoken up before paused. "We need... Mages with Soul-related abilities."

"Go fuck an Einzbern doll", spat Aoko. The man looked highly affronted, but no one seemed to care.

"Atlas makes a claim. Our reasons are ours."

"I believe the debt of the agreement is to myself and not the Mage's Association", interjected Nicholas before everyone could begin bickering, but it just intensified the arguments.

In the midst of shouting men and woman, Aoko slid next to Harry. "Hi!"

"Hey Aoko..."

"You know, I'm not being selfish. I think it's ultimately your decision, after all. Everyone really wants you, so I'm going to give you a rundown of what they want from you. First, the Sea of Estray is composed of the people of Prague, Sponheim and Thule. Nicky wants you to continue his legacy, like he wanted hundreds of promising mages before you. Sponheim wants to do forbidden experiments with Reality Marbles, away from Clock Tower. Thule wants to complete their set of Fate runes, assuming you know them all. Atlas is composed of the latter-day alchemists. If Nicky is centered around discovering the origins of the Truth... they're centered around ending it..."

"Why are you telling me this, Aoko? What is _your _objective?"

"I want you to come with me to Universal Research. There are a bunch of people our age there, and it's really lively, and you won't want to go back to school afterwards. We make discoveries every day!"

"So that's all I am to you? An asset of Miss Blue that will be utilized in discovering new forms of magic?" Harry teased.

"Don't be silly, Harry Potter. We all learn far more from everyone around us than we teach. Universal Research is very tight knit." She was behind him suddenly. "I'm not good at this, but I think I'll be able to... persuade you rather well."

"Aoko..." Harry's promise to Daphne and Hermione hit him like a bucket of cold water.

"Harry, I can make it easy, difficult, or very, very hard for you."

He bit his lower lip and resisted the urge to inhale deeply, but failed. She smelled of magic, pure and clean, and of the color blue. Of cherry blossoms against touches of Industrial England. It was an intoxicating scent, but not truly so. It had no directed magic to it, just a promise of a Miracle...

"Aoko..." he tried again.

"He's decided", Aoko shouted to the crowd. "Clock Tower will take him."

He didn't protest, but everyone else did.

The representatives from Atlas and Sponheim stalked out of the room, while those who represented other divisions in the Clock Tower gave ambivalent nods.

Lorelei and the gnarly man both voted in favor of Aoko, and Nicholas grudgingly said yes.

But the rest of the people present ranged from stony expressions to outright anger.

"Universal Research has taken _all _of them, over the years", muttered the woman who had argued with Flamel.

"We need Universal Research to balance our objectives, dear", said Perenelle.

At her words, everyone nodded, and began leaving by various means.

"Come on, Harry, I'll take you to the living quarters!" Aoko smiled, dragging him off.

They were several hundred feet away from the Auditorium when a Silence Ward was woven about them. "Nicky's designated you as a Sorcerer already. You're on fast track to becoming a huge player here. You might fill the spot of another Primary Color before we're done. Heaven knows you identify with Red well enough, Harry."

Harry thought of Fleur's confusion about his demonic nature.

"I envy you, Harry. You can offend literally anyone here and get away with it. You're the youngest person in history to receive a Sorcerer's Designation. Your research is literally untouchable. You're going to get along great with my sister, I think."

There was a trace of bitterness in her tone.

"There are seven of us in Universal Research. Each of us, from Cornelius to Touko, we all have a specialty. The majority will resent you beyond belief, because you are easily the most powerful of us all., in both versatility and sheer magical strength. Your single core is equivalent to the majority of the people we just met with. Your Eyes are definitely Noble, or even more. You've impressed Zelretch himself."

The trace of bitterness became a trace of jealousy.

"I feel like a big fish in a little pond right now, even though our pond is the size of the world. It makes me wonder how many fringe communities have produced people with your strength. It makes me wonder how much power the Five Sorcerers of the American League have. It makes me wonder how strong the Eight Blessed Warriors of the Church have. You have driven my ambition to heights unlike any other, Harry."

"Aoko..." Harry closed his eyes.

"I don't know if Nicky was kidding when he said that you wanted to take the world on. From my experience, there are many people who do. But you have a chance of actually winning. Nicky and Zelretch and Perry, they did it together, and they created the Association. It makes me wonder what you'll be capable of. When the time comes, and I have to choose between the man who inspired me and the Association that held me back... you know who I'll choose."

"Aoko... thank you..." Harry felt the promise he made to Daphne tremble.

"Well, now that _that's _out of the way", she said, regaining her cheer, "I'll be showing you to your room now. We get the best rooms, because we're the best. It's leftover from the Meritocratic system that Nicky wanted to create. But that was long before the Families rose to power. We still get nice lodgings though. You seem to have packed light..."

She stared at Harry's swinging arms, completely devoid of any sort of luggage.

"Well, it was that, or going to Diagon Alley and getting one of those magic trunks that you read about."

"Get out! You've read _Sorcerers of the Hill_? It was such a good novel. Alas, having a potions laboratory in your", Aoko giggled, "Magical trunk... is sort of stupid. It really ruined the experience for me when the protagonist received magical inheritances from friendly goblins."

"Ollivander, the Wizard's wandmaker, was joking about the multi-core, multi-wood wands with fantastic creature bits in them the other day."

"Oh yeah. As if anyone would waste their materials like that..."

They went off in a companionable silence, passing other Mages in the corridors who must have been students, some of which backed away from Aoko as if she were a sort of poisonous snake.

"Why don't they like you?" Harry asked.

"Power scares them", she replied shortly. She seemed to be uncomfortable herself.

"Indeed it does", came a voice ahead of them.

"Cornelius", Aoko greeted. There was a lingering coldness between them that spoke of bad blood.

"Miss Blue", he returned. There was a sort of wild hope in his void, and Harry realized that this boy would not be liking him. He seemed to hold a torch for Aoko. "Who is this?"

"He is Harry Potter, a bit of a British Wizarding Hero."

Cornelius Alba scoffed. "The only person they have going for them is Albus Dumbledore. Now _that's _a man I can respect." He sneered at Harry.

"He's joining us at Universal Research, Cornelius. He is full of a certain sort of innovation that comes from self-study..."

"Bah. What can he bring to the table", Cornelius spat. Harry compared him to Draco Malfoy. Both were spoiled brats who believed too deeply in their own capabilities.

Aoko smiled winningly. "His other name is James Evans."

She marched past him with Harry on her arm. "His sputtering is music to my ears", she whispered to Harry.

"Is he powerful?"

"He has a distinct grasp on Runes. He also has very many resources. He will not take kindly to the fact that Thule wanted you enough to stick their head out."

"Thule?"

"The Runic Society. They rejected him on account of his age."

"But I'm younger-"

"Exactly. You're a one in a million find, Harry, even among Mages. No one has ever shown that much promise in... everything. Not at the same time."

They walked past another corridor. The floors had become carpeted several corridors back, but now, they were thick and luxurious, with Persian weaves. This was the dwelling of nobility, of true privelege. Academic Runes, all of which Harry knew, lined the walls.

Harry was pleased to note that there were windows that looked over huge mountain ranges.

"We're somewhere in Norway right now, I think."

"It's beautiful. It's also pretty warm for Norway", Harry said, smiling.

They walked through another corridor and the carpeting split into three colors. Red... Green... and Blue.

"They're giving you the Red Quarters, Harry. It's meant to send a message."

"They wish for me to join the Association permanently?" Harry asked rhetorically.

Aoko did not answer. "I'll meet you here at Eight, tomorrow morning. I'll take you to the Workshops, and show you mine. But only if you show me yours later." She skipped away before Harry could formulate a witty response.

Harry stared at her retreating back, all thoughts of Hogwarts and Voldemort gone from his mind.


	52. The Eyes of Universal Research

Disclaimer: I don't own this. I barely own my soul, let alone HP or the Sharingan. Any influence from Kinkoku Nasu or Jim Butcher belongs to them.

Author's Note: Super long update is in honor of Zombie, who has been a superfantastic beta. Hopefully I'll be able to send out a beta'd version of this and Finale 4 when he has the time. Because he's superfantastic.

Author's Note: This chapter... will be more polarizing than the Harry/Quirrell duel, when the story got awesome. This chapter will be more polarizing than Rome Duels. This chapter will be more polarizing than the lesbian sex, and even more than the fourth finale. You have been warned. There are some of you who will _scream_ when you read this. Heads up given.

Opinion Poll: Harry/Aoko or Original pairing? More reviews this way and that will not persuade me. Your opinion will. If you're just going to put down "H/HR forever!" I'll ignore it. Similarly, I'll ignore "Harry/Aoko pl0x" or "H/Hr/D". I will ignore people asking for slash as well.

Check out my newest fic at fanfiction .net/ s/ 7259433/ 1/The_Hero

and my DLP inspired one-shot featuring Harry/fem!Riddle at fanfiction. net /s/ 7274298/ 1/ D_minor

Anon: They're not British wizarding families. They're Mage Lines. There is only one noted exception - the Barthomeloi hold both nobility in the Association and on the Wizengamot, making Lorelei a huge threat or boon, depending on where I take it.

Pet Peeve: When people review amazingly, ask questions, and have PM turned off. I'm like "I'm hyped! I'm gonna give all my secrets away *cue OneRepublic song*" and then I hit the reply button in my Gmail, and it says "Person does not have PM enabled." And I'm like FFFFFFFFUUUUUU!

**Mangekyo**

Harry had experienced many things in his life, but never had he slept somewhere so opulent and laden with magic. He could understand why people would enjoy being a part of the Mage's Association. For the first time, he felt the urge to dive back beneath the covers and roll about the multi-thousand thread count sheets.

The room was frightfully red. At least Gryffindor Tower had gold motifs. The carpets were crimson. The walls were a lighter red, but everything else was either maroon or darker. Thankfully, none of it was _bright_ red. That would have been a terrible eyesore.

Harry reluctantly put shoes on, trainers that he had bought earlier in the year, and a loose white t-shirt that resembled Aoko's. He also put on a deep red pair of slacks to complete the somewhat comical mimicry.

He wondered if he should dye his hair blue for the day, but decided that it would be a terrible idea.

"Now that I'm off to a new place of learning, I believe I should change my name to something fitting. Perhaps Rakhe- No that's fucking stupid", he winked at the mirror, wonder where his comment had come from.

"I'm Harry Potter. At worst, I am James Evans in honor of my parents. I am the soul of the King." His right Eternity blazed red and black, while his Royal Eye flashed blue and gold.

He shut the door to his room with a simple locking charm - there was nothing of value in there, after all, and slowly walked along the hallway, which was somewhere on the African plains. He turned a corner, exiting the domain of Red and stared out a window overlooking a fantastically beautiful Norweigan fjord.

"Nice view, isn't it?" came the voice of Ao-

No, it wasn't Aoko. Her speech and mannerisms were very similar, but she was older, more refined, and had a certain intellectual curiosity that ran deeper than the other girl's. Her hair was a dull shade of orange.

"You must be Touko Aozaki. I am pleased to make your acquaintance", muttered Harry delicately, attempting to imitate the speaking patterns of the other nobles.

"I had heard that we would have a new addition to Universal Research, and that it would be James Evans. Are you he?"

"Yes, I would be James Evans. I usually go by Harry Potter, though."

"Do you share a name with the British Wizarding baby hero, or are you he as well?"

"I am that Harry, yes."

There was a moment of awkward silence that Harry never experienced with Aoko, whose bubbly personality was simply different from the more cold and calculating Touko.

"I must meet your sister along this corridor soon."

"Aoko is still sleeping, I think. What time did you set with her?"

"Eight in the morning. It's Seven Fifty Two already."

"Yes it is. Would you like to meet the rest of Universal Research, Harry?"

"Maybe after Aoko shows up."

"Be prepared for a long wait, Harry Potter."

Harry frowned. "Eight minutes doesn't seem to be much of a wait, Touko. I am quite a patient person."

Touko's laughter was akin to the sound of a wind chime, light and pretty, but pealing.

"It is Seven Fifty Two in the evening, Mr. Potter."

Harry stared at her strangely for a moment. "Do you mean to say that I slept for more than thirty hours?"

The laughter was louder this time, and Harry was struck by how similar it was to Scathach's, mischievous and full of secrets that doubled as inside jokes - guarded carefully but never blatantly.

"Time Dilation, Mr. Potter. You would think that walking through several continents would change your perception of Space-Time, but..."

"I've slept for an hour?" Harry wondered.

"Yes. This isn't Avalon, and our mages haven't the power to enchant ten years into a mere minute, but twelve hours per every full revolution of the minute hand is quite within their abilities."

They walked in silence once more, and Harry glanced at the beautiful carved images of old fairy tales on the walls in the Scandinavian corridor.

"They are quite amazing, are they not?"

Harry had paused at a work of Hans Christian Andersen and observed the hundreds of runes that had been painted seemingly at random. Put together however, they fully comprised, at a single glimpse, the timeless story of the Little Mermaid. He ran his hand over the most powerful of them all, the Nineteenth of the Sumerian Blood series.

Touko giggled. "Why are you feeling Ariel up, Harry?"

Harry drew his hand back, blushing. "I-I-I was just-"

"It's okay, Harry. I did nearly the same when I first gazed upon it. Water is a very powerful force, as you will see soon. Hector wishes to duel you upon sight."

"Hector?"

"Just another member of Universal Research you will meet. He is a Barthomeloi, and seeks to gain the acceptance of his Clan Head by defeating you. Come, we shall go through China to the Lounge." Touko smiled.

The silence was slightly more comfortable until they actually stepped into the Lounge.

There were several chairs of a deep midnight that the majority of the members of Universal Research were situated upon. The walls were a pale yellow and the carpet a warm, friendly brown.

The members of Universal Research carried stone tablets which seemed to serve as tables and paper as magic danced about between fingers. Four of the five were writing in their tablets with strange wax and iron styluses.

The most prominent object, however, was a large, flat and rectangular tray of sand.

Every several seconds, a different person on what Harry realized was a pentagram would slam their hand and magic into the tray, sending it flying to one of the other two people who weren't next to them.

The sand rippled and twisted into a different shape, and Harry realized that the point of the ritual was to build the rune for Wisdom as each person concentrated on their work.

"Mind boosting?" Harry wondered aloud. Touko nodded.

"I don't need it, myself, but it always helps." There was a certain sort of arrogance in her words that made Harry frown.

Suddenly, the mages stopped their ritual. The tray clattered to the ground, spraying sand everywhere, but someone who must have been an alchemist converted it into air with a wave of his hand.

"Greetings, James Evans. I am Cornelius Alba. I met you an hour ago, with Aoko." He extended his hand. Harry shook it. The handshake was firm, but slightly sandy. "I am a Master of Runes."

"Matthew Lenova. My last name doesn't mean anything in this world", a boy with a five o'clock shadow and bright brown eyes smiled self-deprecatingly. "But I'm damn good with crafting Systems. Gematrian Arithmancy is my strong suit. Kabbalah is my weakest by far."

"What are Systems, exactly?" Harry wondered.

"It's Inverse Magic", Matthew explained. "If you cast a spell, it's the belief that you were created to be a vehicle to the spell you cast. It makes Transfiguration far easier and Charms far more difficult." His smiles turned slightly rueful. "I'm unable to use magic the normal way. They say it's because of this." He pushed back the hair that obscured the soft behind his left ear. Harry gave a start.

"Do you recognize it?" Matthew asked eagerly. "No one at Thule recognizes it." He gave a heavy sigh. "They say it's never been seen before."

"It is a rune of my specialty", Harry said, his voice barely heard. "That is Fate/Flow, the Seventh Blood Rune. You... will do great things, despite the fact that it is the most restrictive of the Thirteen."

"Marked by Fate, huh?" chimed in Cornelius. "That's a load of crap. Sumerian Blood was lost eons ago."

It was a challenge. A challenge of magical knowledge. Cornelius clearly knew some Sumerian Runes, but he believed that Harry didn't possess the skills he claimed to. Harry rose to the challenge.

"Of the First Blood Series, there are thirty three runes. Thirteen are Fate runes and seven are Fae runes. The remaining runes are Magic, Wisdom, Phantasm, Hallow, and the Elementary Set", he lectured. Touko had whipped out her own stone tablet and stylus.

"The most powerful runes are a pair of Fate runes that represent the opposite of one another. The first is Fate/Birth, or the Rune of Merlin. The other, the fourth in the series, is Fate/Truth, the Rune of Flamel. The Lord Philosopher's rune allows him to see what was before, and what will be after. The transference from Fate/Birth to Fate/Truth are the Three Runes of Deep Magic, Fate/Kaleidoscope, Fate/Materials and Fate/Remove. When arranged in a pentagram, they spell the rune Humanity. They are the Five Miracles."

"Who possesses-"

"Myself, the Einzbern family and Aoko each have claim to one of the Three Deep. Lord Schweinorg similarily has the right to the Kaleidoscope."

"What are the other Fate runes?" asked a girl who looked Slavic in origin.

"The Seven Representations and Tranquility", said Harry dismissively, his lesson over. "Can we go back to introductions? I'm not used to... teaching. You may read my study on the Blood Series. It's been completed for quite a while..."

"Very well. I am Vija Burvis", spoke the girl who Harry had described as Slavic. It appeared that she was, in fact, Latvian. "My greatest skill is within the art of Enchanting."

Harry shook her hand.

"Barthomeloi. Hector of the Main Line, brother to the Head." Hector had brown hair and the aristocratic features of Lorelei. He, too, carried a Wand, but his was a shorter, less elegant affair than Harry's old Holly. He did not extend his hand.

"Jerome. I am of Atlas", muttered the final child, whose face was enshrouded in a Burka of all things.

"Aren't those for women?" Harry wondered aloud. Touko laughed.

"I believe a Duel to ascertain our abilities should do nicely", Hector said rather loudly.

Harry refrained from groaning loudly. It was the promised challenge from Hector Barthomeloi.

"Hector, it isn't necessary. He defeated both my sister and Albus Dumbledore, and dueled the Lord Philosopher to a standstill. It is clear where his skills are."

The placid face of the Barthomeloi took on a haughtiness that was reminiscent of his sister's. "Now, how will we judge his word without a duel?"

"You will find, Hector, that judging magical expertise has nothing to do with dueling. You are encouraging him to ignore you and your needs in the sixth months that he will be present", glared Touko rather frostily. "Is it clear?"

Hector nodded resentfully.

Touko walked over to a wall, which Harry realized was a carefully disguised wall-sized closet, and pulled open a compartment with a whole bunch of stone tablets inside. "Catch!"

Harry snatched the stone tablet out of the air and trapped the flying stylus between his fingers. It had been boosted with a burst of wind, and would have skewered him had he not done so.

Touko laughed. "There's our answer. Hector took the tablet in the face, and the stylus in his right shoulder." She turned to the Barthomeloi. "How are your ligaments working, by the way?"

Harry had discovered another trait that Touko possessed which Aoko did not. Cruelty.

**Mangekyo**

_Dear Daphne and Hermione,_

_I've been living somewhere in Africa and studying somewhere in Norway for nearly a week. I have slept a total of seven hours, or eighty four, depending on how you look at it._

_Magical discoveries are literally happening every day. Aoko confessed that no problems had been solved for nearly two months, and everyone had been on the verge of tears, suicide, or duels to the death when I appeared._

_I have gained brilliant insight into many sorts of arcane magic that I would have never learned at Hogwarts. I feel rather guilty for not writing to you, but every single moment, it seems I stand upon the threshold of revelation. The majesty of magic is immense._

_There are seven other members of Universal Research. Truly, there was never a name more fitting than UR._

_My favorite people, by far, are Aoko and a seventeen year old boy named Matthew Lenova. He is what Hermione would have been if you were only capable of Systems. Systems are Reverse Casts which utilize the immutability of fate to squeeze magical power from the world in order to fuel your spells. I believe this is the key to the Greengrass bloodline. Enclosed alongside this is my work of the Gematria and Kaballah systems. Matthew is another Fatebreaker, with Fate/Flow carved into him at birth._

_I am ambivalent about the presence of Touko Aozaki and Cornelius Alba. Both have experienced tragedy in ways that have changed their perception of the world, and if they change enough, they will become capable in the art of Reality Marble construction._

_I do not know anything about Hector Barthomeloi, Vija Burvis or Jerome of Atlas. They believe that if I have access to their work, I will steal it. Perhaps they are justified. Hector's research centers around Water. Burvis is an enchanter and Jerome sits around furtively writing. Analysis of his stylus strokes leads me to the conclusion that he is spying on Touko Aozaki._

_Aoko and I are working on a joint project to reconstruct Marble Phantasm, which will give us advantages unlike any other. She believes the answer lies in Fate/Zero, Fate/StayNight and Fate/Tranquility and will not listen to my arguments about the juxtaposition of Fate/Summer and Fate/Winter or Fae/Avalon. She is surprisingly hardheaded._

_Unfortunately, it appears that we are both correct. Discovering Marble Phantasm is similar to discovering the Grand Unified Theory of Physics. To continue my analogy, I will break down the Blood Series into the Miraculous Component, the Thought component, the Fae Component and the Representations. As the key to the Strong and Weak Forces, Electromagnetism and Gravity is Magic, the key to the Four Blood Components is Tranquility._

_It is, as I have noted, unfortunate because Fate/Tranquility seems to be a dud rune at the moment. It might have something to do with the fact that I know only three of the seven Fae runes and cannot comprehend the nature of Truth, unlike the Lord Philosopher. This is not a project for a pair of Sorcerers. This is a project for a team of over fifty. If world peace was achieved, I believe Fate/Tranquility could be understood at last. The irony is palpable._

_Touko's mind seems to work in the same way as yours, Hermione. I believe if you had been sorted into Slytherin House, you would turn out quite similar to her. The entirety of her work is based on a stray motif. She has already developed it to the point in which she is able to control the bodies of her opponents with a mere thought, as if they were puppets on a string. She utilizes a certain weave of Strands that are difficult for even myself to break. Sharing the rune of Fate/Remove with Aoko helps greatly, as snapping them generally disorients her slightly. I have no doubt that she is an opponent very few could cross and live._

_I had my first lesson with the Lord Philosopher yesterday. He was kind enough to teach everyone at Universal Research, and I have gleaned the technique to creating the Philosopher's Stone, in theory, due to a variety of vague questions. I believe he suspects me, despite my academic interest._

_Creating a Philosopher's Stone is far too risky._

_I would like to know how your summers have gone, and I will collect your letters twenty four hours after I have deposited this on Daphne's pillow._

_Harry_

**Mangekyo**

_Dear Harry,_

_I (Daphne) am about to visit the Vampires of London to extend an olive branch in your name. I have prepared thirty eight silver slips, each of which have Nordic Lightning carved on them. Hopefully, that will dissuade anyone wishing my death._

_Hermione has worked out a syllabus for the Defense Association._

_I have completed my Reality Marble, Harry! _The handwriting had become that of Hermione's._ It is beautiful beyond belief, and I can feel the changes within my soul. There is nothing quite like it at all. Within it lies the Library of Alexandria, the Archive of all human knowledge._

_I'm scared, Harry. Three days have passed since I entered the library, but Daphne says only a single second has elapsed._

_I don't want to go in the library any more. But it feels so good. It's my soul, right? It can't hurt me, can it?_

_The Reality Marble is self contained, but when I enter it, no time passes, and daily, I find it more difficult to leave. When I duel, I can research the effects and counters of every single spell in existence if it is written. It's been nearly two months since I've last written. It is so very useful. I do find myself missing Daphne, but this is so new and exciting, and I've learned so much!_

_I don't want to ever leave it. I'll be back._

_Months are passing. I don't think I need to sleep anymore. My mind never gets tired. Not when I'm assimilating experiences. I've learned so much! Do you know it's been a year, Harry?_

_Whenever I discover something new, I obsessively research it. I spent over a thousand hours reading about each moment in your letter. I haven't seen you in such a long time, Harry. I have to get back to my research. There's so much I can tell you about the Systems!_

_I think I'm going crazy, Harry. It's like a narcotic. The real world. It just doesn't have the same feeling anymore. It's so dull and lifeless. Nothing Daphne does can arouse me any more. Erotic novels are just so much better, and I have so many of them at my disposal._

_What is Time anyway, Harry Potter? I haven't seen you in a decade, but it's only been five hours in the so-called real world._

_I feel old. Experienced. My Marble has evolved over the years to include true experiences. I've been run through a million times, been in love like no other. I have been Juliet, I have been Romeo. I have made a deal with a million Winter Queens, have incanted magic so powerful that you would not believe it! Twenty years. Is this what you feel when you walk down the street, when you're at Hogwarts? Have you experienced as much as I?_

_We of the Reality Marble are Gods, Harry. I have no doubt your magic will forever be stronger than mine. But rest assured, I am just as powerful as you now. I have eighty three years of experience to back myself up! It's been eight hours._

_You will never match me. _

_Daphne thinks I've gone insane. I suppose a century of experience does that to you._

_I don't believe her. It can't be real. I think she's wanted the reality marble so bad that she's developed a sort of God Complex, Harry. I'm going to take her to a muggle psychiatrist or something._

_Love,_

_Daphne and Hermione_

**Mangekyo**

Harry stared at the letter in his hand mutedly as the other members of Universal Research watched him surreptitiously.

He suddenly howled in anger.

It was a terrible noise as he ripped the letter to shreds in front of everyone.

"Harry, calm down!" shouted Aoko.

"How... dare..." Harry choked, coughing. "How dare she..."

Black flames danced around him. A very alarmed Hector Barthomeloi sent a jet of water at him but the flames dissipated them before they even got close.

"I'm going to _kill_ her!" Harry screamed to the heavens. Predictably, Aoko sent a burst of disruptive magic at him, aiming to calm him down, but Harry flipped out even further.

His hand traced Fate/Seal in the air with his arm and suddenly, she was thrown against the wall, a rune of light pressed against her.

"Put her down!" Touko glared at Harry, but Aoko had broken free already - her mastering of the Black Point was far more powerful that his usage of the Sumerian Seal.

"She'll manage", growled Harry as he burned his stone tablet into ash with his flames.

"Your research!" shouted Hector, horrified.

"Memorized."

Harry drove a fist through a wall.

"Exactly _what_ has gotten you so worked up?" asked Aoko.

"Someone back at home. I'm gone for a week, and she's become insane. By the time I get there, she'll be incurable. Even if I go now, I'll have to figure out a way to fix her."

"Is it the plant girl, the bookworm or the angel?" Aoko queried. She had participated in long discussions about Harry's life when they took breaks. Similarly, Harry now knew more about Japanese tea ceremonies and baking pies than he would ever use.

"The bookworm", Harry muttered miserably. "She's perfected a Marble that transcends Time. I believe it is the inverse of Fate/Flow. I fear that if I do not cure her, her personality will be lost forever. Her mind was mostly knowledge to begin with."

"I don't understand, Harry."

Universal Research huddled close to him as he began to lecture again.

"A Reality Marble can be separated into two categories, Contained and Bending. Marbles which Bend would consist of the majestic Brunestud castle, my own Crimson Moon, and the entire dimension of Avalon itself. Marbles which Contain are far more rare and in most cases, less powerful, but far more deadly to the wielder. First, I must describe the concept of the Reality Marble itself."

Harry took a deep breath and a cup of water materialized in his hands. Everyone was taking down his words verbatim.

"Imagine your soul as a concept. The Mage's Association refers to it as an Origin. You can describe your soul in a single word. Those of us who have Fate runes can describe it in two, or three. For example, my Origin is Kaleidoscope, after the Rune, and all my life was Misery." Harry carefully chose not to mention his other Fate runes.

"I can describe Aoko by her Fate rune, Remove, or I can describe it as her Ethic, the thing she's structured her life after, which I confess to not knowing. Now, each soul is a _deviation from the norm_. Remember that! Our souls are unique to each of us. My Kaleidoscope is not Lord Schweinorg's Kaleidoscope. I possess far more finesse, and perhaps less power than he does."

Harry paused and his only visible eye drilled into each one of them.

"To create a Reality Marble is to impose your will upon the world. Lord Flamel named it such because under his interpretation of magic, instead of pull out a white marble from a jar of black with perfect certainty, you _turn all your marbles white_. To make a terrible metaphorical jump, you must lose all your marbles. Ever moment of life is wrestling with your own insanity."

He grinned in such a chilling manner that even Aoko took a step back.

"To call upon your Reality Marble to bend reality, you must beat down the magic of the Earth until it submits and take what is yours. It is the very definition of making your image. When you use a Reality Marble, the earth comes one step closer to dying. The line between Avalon and the World is breached for a mere moment. And more often than not, you take Hell to Earth. That is the nature of a Bending Marble. It is something that someone who hasn't utilized cannot _comprehend_. Only a victim would have any sort of knowledge about what it's truly like."

Harry's grin slid away and a look of pleading clouded his features. "For a soul as proud as mine, it is not easy to beg forgiveness. I would rather kill myself. But I have begged forgiveness from everyone who I have exposed to the Reality of the Crimson Moon. There is nothing quite as heinous as forcing all my life upon _anyone_. In less than fifteen seconds, I shattered two thousand minds at Rome Duels..."

"Including mine", muttered Aoko. "If not for the Lord Philosopher and Lady Flamel, our minds would have all been broken beyond any sort of repair. I have no doubt that I would have recovered. My very nature allows for defense against enchantments and mental instability, but the Reality Marble leaves permanent cracks upon the psyche of everyone exposed to it, the subject more than the victim."

"As twisted as the Bending Marble is, it's got _nothing_ on the Contained Marble."

Universal Research drew in sharp breaths.

"If a Bending Marble takes a hammer to each of your minds, the Contained Marble takes all of those hammers to the same mind, repeatedly. In just a moment, you are changed _forever_. There is _no_ cure, save from the most powerful of all Mind Mages, but only if the cure is immediate Obliviation of the Marble. Life will then become a battle between the deepest nature of the soul and the sanctity of the mind."

"Reach out with all of your magic. Open your Mystic Eyes. Utilize the very best of your detection skills, and feel how utterly _wrong_ I am."

There was a moment of silence, and then concentration was etched upon seven faces.

"I am the soul of the King. Misery is my curse and magic is creed. I have incanted no spells to isolate my reality _but have always walked another path_." The resonance of Harry's soul rang against each of them.

Aoko's reaction was the least extreme, as she had been exposed to it before. She shivered slightly and tears dripped out of the corners of her eyes.

Blood began to dribble out of Hector's nose as he fell over in a dead faint.

Cornelius keeled over and began to vomit uncontrollably.

Touko screamed and screamed and screamed, a wild look in her eyes.

"Obliviate!" Harry roared, utilizing the power built up behind his Soul Aria to excise the mental damage caused by the projection of his innermost self, but the latent magic of the practitioners resisted him.

"Oh dear god", whispered Vija, who had been rather silence in the past weeks.

"Oh dear god, indeed." The group huddled together, shivering. They barely noticed as the hours past, lost in human warmth and the need to repair the stains on their souls.

Harry sat off to the side, contemplating on why he always hurt those exposed to him.

**Mangekyo**

Every part of Harry screamed out against what he was doing.

He was deep enough in her control as it was.

But he couldn't let it stand.

He had hurt too many people.

"Scathach."

He thought of Hermione. Of the seven members of Universal Research.

His pride broke and he knelt, his forehead touching the floor. An inexorable force hit the side of his stomach, and he was sent sprawling. He stood.

"I've come to sell you more of my soul", Harry muttered.

"Ok." She looked into his eyes, and everything was ripped out of his head as if his Occlumency didn't exist.

Harry stared at her. "Wh-what do you mean _ok_?" he whispered, cradling his head.

"I own your soul now."

"Y-you didn't do anything."

"Magic is not always done with fancy rituals and incantations. Sometimes, it comes from in here", Scathach tapped her chest.

"A-alright. I'll be able to cure Hermione now?"

"You won't." Harry stared.

"You asked for the ability to cure Hermione. I gave you the means to attain it."

"I don't understand."

Scathach turned away, but another Legilimenic probe suddenly left her, pulling Harry into a state of bliss.

"Get out of my head."

"It's my head, Harry."

Harry felt just about ready to retch from the self-revulsion at the burst of need that the innocent little possessive smile triggered.

"My head. My soul. My mind. My body. Mine. Mine. Mine. And don't you ever forget it."

Black flames danced in the wind after she left.

**Mangekyo**

"Tsukuyomi."

Harry had been in front of his mirror for nearly twenty hours. He had met over a thousand renditions of himself. Barely a third knew anything about mind magic. Less than three had ideas on how to proceed. Those who did have ideas had dumb ideas.

Harry sank into the world of the Crimson Moon, his counterpart tied against vines.

"I'll make this quick. What do you know about Mind Magic?"

It was another female version of him. Her name was Agatha.

"I-I know the Obliviate charm. Wh-where am I?"

Harry sighed, and released the Crimson Moon. He sank into his bed, his Royal Eye tearing blood from the exhaustion for the first time.

Damaging his left eye was a _mean_ feat. Considering the Right Eye bore most of Susano'o's brunt and Caliburn was regenerative by definition, Harry knew he had seriously overtaxed himself.

He stared at the rune on his forehead.

"The inverse lies within the mirror. Not anti-Victory, not un-Victory. Hollow Victory. I'm batshit insane", he muttered to himself.

**Mangekyo**

"Hello Hermione."

"Harry!" the girl exclaimed, giving him a hug. "I haven't seen you in a long time!"

Harry smashed into her mind with the force of a dropping moon.

Hermione sank to her knees in shock.

Harry ripped through memory after memory of her life, starting from her birth.

When it was over, Hermione was passed out on the floor.

Harry grabbed Daphne by the throat.

"_You_ were in on this."

Daphne sputtered, and Harry realized that she was actually choking.

Hermione moaned, sitting up. "Harry. Y-you're overreacting."

"That was _not_ funny", Harry said with deadly calm.

"I-I'm sorry, Harry. It's just that I've been talking to Fred and George often, and sometimes, George will feign mental-"

"Shut the fuck up."

Daphne bit her lip. Hermione started sobbing.

"Do you know how many hours of emotional anguish I just went through? Did you know that I was ready to burn you alive, Hermione? _Do you know what I asked Scathach_?"

"Wh-what?"

"I told her that she could have _all_ of my soul, Eye or no Eye, if she'd help me cure you. I showed her the letter. She _laughed_ at me and told me that she _owned_ me."

Hermione stared with mute horror. "You sold your s-soul. F-for me?"

"I sold my soul because you _pranked_ me. Yes." Harry suddenly grabbed her head and brought his eyes to hers. "Tell me why I shouldn't burn you alive, Hermione Granger."

To that, she had no response.

"Do you know why I haven't?"

There continued to be no response.

"Because I love you, Hermione. I love you more than anyone save Daphne. Despite your joke, I believe your Reality Marble will be quite like that."

Harry's green eye turned Blue and Gold.

"If you continue research on your Reality Marble, I will rip you in half and burn you into ashes. Kamui."

**Mangekyo**

Harry saw the fist coming many times slower than it was moving, but he didn't dodge it, or even activate his Charge Step.

Aoko's fist sent him crashing into the wall behind him.

"You son of a bitch. We won."

It had been forty hours since they had been subjected to a small portion of Harry's soul.

"I had to kill you with _fire_. Do you have any idea how traumatic that is?" Touko muttered. "I watched as your soul imprint burned alive. You screamed. Louder than I did.

"Honestly, I'm glad that happened", decided Cornelius. "It might look like a shitty situation now, but... at the least, we know far more about ourselves than we did before. I don't know about all of you, but I spent at least half of that time discovering myself, and strengthening my soul to confront him. Your soul..." He exhaled loudly. "Your soul is far, far, far stronger than mine if your very imprint can do that."

"In the past forty hours, I've hit all of you with mind boosting charms at least twenty times each", Harry said. "You're about to feel the effects... now."

Instantly, they all passed out.

Harry waved his arm, levitating them to the armchairs, and then carried them one by one back to their rooms.

He took Aoko last, in his arms rather than with a charm. It just felt more right to him.

Her room was very... blue, as blue as his room was red. It seemed to be somewhat similar to the Raveclaw common room, with high windows that looked over mountains, though these were in South America somewhere, as there was a huge tropical jungle with species of birds flying by that were of the Amazon.

"I know you far better now than I had known you a scant two weeks ago."

Harry wasn't surprised. Her ability to recover was fantastically amazing. While he specialized in not getting hit by magic during duels, she was a veritable tank. A very, very fast one.

"You'll always be the one I loved first, Harry Potter. But I love you no more."

"Aoko..."

"Loving you, Harry, is narcissism. You are now a part of all of us, I believe. I lied, and everyone went with it. We did not win. I know because we all confronted your specter together."

"A-aoko..."

"We didn't get past this experience because we defeated you and removed you from our souls."

Aoko's electric blue eyes transfixed him.

"We absorbed you. We each took a piece of you. Do you know which piece I took, Harry?"

"Which piece?"

"I took the imprint of your desires. I may not be a Queen, as you are a King... but I'm at least a Duchess." Aoko smiled quite suddenly.

"Your power... I don't believe you understand the depths of your power, Harry. When I took your desires, I alone had access to your every secret. I believe... you can overpower her, even with your debt. And I believe she knows."

"She is one of the most powerful-"

"Yet she seeks you out. She seeks to cull those who would challenge her. Once and Future King. Arthur Took It Up first, to take Britain. If you take it up, I believe you will take Akasha, Harry."

"Those are dangerous words."

"They are not untrue. There is much strength at your disposal that you might never unlock, and I believe the key to it lies in understanding that you are more than just Misery, Harry."

"Aoko..."

**Mangekyo**

"You lied to him."

"Yes. I did lie to him."

"I did not think you would take my advice."

"I did, because I saw the most of his soul. I love him. It will always be him. But he is destined for things far greater than a girl who just wants to live comfortably and play with her magic. He loves those two."

"You're a fool."

There was a silence, and the sharp glare could almost be heard.

"You _don't_ deserve him. I wondered if you're go ahead and make you move all of these two weeks and you didn't. I give you a little bit of advice to the contrary of your goals and you hang onto it like a drop of water in the Sahara."

"Wh-what should I have done?"

"You should have done what you wanted to do."

"It's too late now."

"It is."

Harry walked away from the door, feeling totally numb.

**Mangekyo**

"Tsukuyomi."

The haunted, crazed eyes of Alyssa Potter stared at him.

"Why... is everyone failing me this week?" Harry began the process of repairing his other self from the ravages of the Dark Arts.

"Why is your soul not whole? Why have you made a _Horcrux_, you silly, silly girl?"

"I-I. Harry, I didn't mean for this to happen... It just..."

"My life... has hit rock bottom, apparently. Don't call for me unless you're in mortal peril. I certainly won't call for you again in a while. Goodbye, Alyssa."


	53. The Eyes of Summer

Disclaimer: I don't own this. I barely own my soul, let alone HP or the Sharingan.

Author's Note: Over 1000 favs. Holy crap. And a hundred reviews for last chapter :O

Author's Note: I once promised to have Elves in this story. This is the official notice that I'm fucking that shit. By "I'm fucking that shit", I mean "there is far too much going on already". There will be no Elves. I don't know how I thought I was going to fit it in, and the plot barely changes anyway. Bah. I'm not Flairgold.

Author's Note: Scathach is the confirmed 'final boss' as some of you put it. If that wasn't obvious, you've clearly been hit with an idiot stick. Or you think I'm a better writer than I am. Or you think I'm a far worse writer than I am.

**Mangekyo**

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry cried. There were few spells that could destroy frustration like the Killing Curse, and the room was far too small to utilize Fiendfyre in.

The green light bloomed on the tip of his finger and a roar of wind was heard. The conjured marble block exploded in shrapnel.

"Is that a sort of soul curse?" Touko wondered.

"Yes. It separates the soul from the body, or destroys whatever it touches."

"How does it function?"

"Anger." Harry's left knuckle was white from the fist he had formed aeons ago. "I'm going to go get a wand."

"You use a wand?"

"Yes. But it was destroyed by overusage recently." Harry answered Hector. "It was an Ollivander work."

The other Brit seemed to understand.

"Where are you going to get one?" he asked. "I heard that replacements were notoriously difficult to find."

"Yes. Ollivander won't be able to sell me one. I will have to defeat someone and take their wand from them. Preferably someone powerful."

Harry was partially lying.

He would not be defeating someone specifically. He would be attacking a set of wards.

"Kamui."

**Omake by Zombie**

He appeared in Luna's bedroom, which was heavily warded by her father. Looking around, he saw the flaxen haired girl sleeping in her bed. A breeze came through the window, ruffling his frilly shirt, as Luna begins to awaken.

"Harry?" She questions. "What are you doing here? Did the Snorkacks bring your through the wards?"

Harry smirks, and says "There is nothing in this world that can keep me from my conquest." and with a gutteral growl, he launches himself at Luna, screaming, "LET US FUCK."

And they fucked. For twelve days and twelve nights. It was totally magical.

**Mangekyo**

The Fortress of Solitude.

No, that wasn't what it was called. Gellert had named it something far more dramatic and eye-roll worthy.

The Fortress of Lost Souls was built in a Glacier roughly the size of the city of London on the surface.

He had come for the wand that belonged to the King of Curses.

"Every day I wake up, I choose Misery", he muttered. A jet of black flame burst out of his eye and melted the Nevermeltice Enchantment in a mere moment.

A black string snapped through the air but Harry dismantled it with his Right Eye.

Howling wind poured across the face of the glacier as the strand broke. It was quite an ingenious design. The strand itself was capable of ripping someone in half, but when broken, it dumped the magic of the Nordic Soul series in the form of wind over the general area.

Harry's Charge Step held fast.

Harry slowly descended the staircase.

He very nearly slipped on a _preserved banana peel_ of all things.

Harry watch as the banana peel hit the huge door at the bottom of the stairs and exploded into a multicolor burst of lightning.

"Aguamenti." The spell was elementary, but quite useful. The water surged from his hand at the door.

It gave a crackle as it began to short out and suddenly glowed blue. The water froze in an instant.

"Why must I kill everything with fire?" Harry wondered exasperatedly. The black flames blew through the door in no time at all. Harry dodged a prepared Killing Curse.

The Fortress had _never_ been infiltrated since the incarceration of Gellert Grindelwald. It was warded against _everything_.

No one had even gotten past the Nevermeltice before.

An inexorable whisper tore through the air as Fate/Kaleidoscope runes activated.

Harry briefly marveled at the sheer amount of access to magics that Gellert must have had to acquire the knowledge of the Kaleidoscope.

Something niggled at the back of his head regarding the Sorcerer. Who had he been associated with?

He walked past several corridors that had relatively simple traps on them. It seemed as if it were herding him towards a certain room.

Only one thing of note was buried in the Glacier.

He walked past another corridor.

It seemed as if the traps had been burned. The various circles and runes were in disarray. Harry marveled at one of the Ostrakon runes that utilized the Kaleidoscope to banish whoever gazed upon it. The clay that held the remains of the Ostrakon had been shattered into several pieces each.

There was something very powerful here.

Something very, very powerful.

He turned another corridor.

Charred, it was charred beyond belief. There was _nothing_ left, only the remnants of a seductive, wild darkness and a majestic, beautiful flame.

A single rune adorned the ground, and Harry felt fear in the pit of his stomach as he turned yet another corridor.

There was nothing. It was pristine, indicating the probability that no man could have survived the other room, possibly not even Grindelwald.

Harry's detection spells washed over the door, but it wasn't even locked. Harry pushed it and it swung open easily. The hinges were preserved by magic.

It was another corridor.

Harry walked slowly, his senses tingling with magic seen and not.

Nothing again.

Nothing he could feel.

Wait. There _was_ something. It was a _blend_. A taste that he- And his fears were confirmed.

He opened a final door and sank to his knees.

_One... two... three... four... five... six... seven._

He rose and walked forward.

In front of him rose a dais, upon which sat a throne and an oblong table.

A slightly red wand was suspended over the table, and a pale light bathed it.

In the throne sat a smiling little girl with a face that would give cause for an angel to weep. Her hair, white and more pure than the driven snow fluttered as an invisible wind. Her eyes were closed, and her body was still, and there was a ghastly hole where her heart should have been.

"You must really want this wand, Harry James Potter."

It felt as if someone had carved his name onto a gravestone. Her voice held a power much like Scathach's, but she was far more comfortable with it. Her speech dug beyond his soul.

It dug into the Root of all Worlds. It dug into the very concept of Harry Potter. He had no doubt that Alyssa and all the other renditions of him felt it.

She did not speak his name as a friend, a lover, an enemy, as a Monarch to her subject. She did not even speak his name as he would have to form his Reality Marble. She did not speak his name at all. She spoke _Harry James Potter_.

"H-how? How are you s-still alive?"

"So young, so powerful, yet so naive. He may have killed me, _Harry James Potter_", she spoke with relish as the little tendrils of fear gripped him. "But he hadn't the imagination to erase me. I am left... damaged."

"But w-why are you here?"

"Oh, that's easy. I wanted to know who could possibly breach the most powerful wards in existence at first. Then when I discovered that no one could even touch the beginnings of it, I destroyed the greatest challenge."

"With a wave of your hand, no doubt", Harry whispered in quiet awe.

"There are few things man can understand about magic. Unfortunately, the might of Summer is generally not one of them."

There was silence.

"Perhaps, my Lady, I shall take leave of-"

"Oh, don't do that, _Harry_."

An inexorable force slammed him onto the ground.

There was just too much magic. Perhaps Aoko could have broken free, but his power over Fate/Remove was simply not the same as hers. It wasn't his native-

That was it.

"Divinity of Space-Time", he whispered.

"An Unmaker?" Her laughter was light and friendly, and impossibly beautiful to listen to.

"Unmaker?" Harry finally asked, as he realized that, for the first time, the Kaleidoscope had failed him.

She stared into his eyes, and ripped through his mind with barely any effort.

"You're one of Scathach's", she said, looking rather disappointed.

"Y-yes."

"And here I was, thinking you had achieved power that no human had ever approached with a singular exception... all on your own."

Shame. She was doing something, or projecting her emotions over him, or _something_. He found himself reacting to her emotions as if she meant far more than she did to him.

"Before the Kingmaker rose to power, there was the First Queen of Summer, _Harry Potter_."

Harry compared himself to a bell, rung every time his name was heard.

"A very powerful man made a deal her. He possessed the most creative of all Runes, inscribed not upon his flesh, but upon his soul. He was unlike any other."

"Merlin."

"_Myrrdin Emyrs_, yes."

Something deep within Harry chimed. He knew, instinctively, that anyone with a true grasp over magic, with true talent, _felt_ it.

"He fought his way through all of my loyal retainers, and when he reached the heart of Summer's strength, he knelt."

She frowned.

"Do you know how difficult it is to admit that I had been a fool, _Harry Potter_?"

She continued. "He waited seven seconds, stood, and walked over to my throne. And he said, 'Lady Titania, I wish to make a deal with you.' And it was then that I thought I _had_ him."

"He wanted the power of Summer. Tell me, _Harry Potter_, did you really think the First Blaze was _his_?"

She knew his heart and mind, so she continued. "And so, I asked for the soul of _Myrrdin Emyrs_. He agreed."

Her eyes burned, and Harry refrained from screaming. There was so much _power_.

"He betrayed me! He used Fate/Birth to change his concept to _Merlin_, and Equivalent Exchange to bind his original name to all of those humans within the fold of Magic itself. And thus, every man, woman and child capable of the art... had made a deal with Summer. _Do you know how much he weakened me_?"

"But-"

"Oh, of course. You believe that the _power_ of summer would go to _everyone_. You're so naive. We always reserve the right to take back what we give."

A stab of horror pulled through Harry's chest.

She laughed again.

"Don't you understand, Harry? Dumbledore's going to give you the First Blaze. He's already prepared it. And when you have the First Blaze, we shall have the First Blaze. And I will be whole again."

"No", Harry breathed, horrified. There was so much power here already-

"Oh, you don't mean that, do you, Harry? Surely you wish for your Queen to be complete once more."

"You'll destroy us."

"That is the truth."

"I'll tell Dumbledore- I'll-"

"Dumbledore is mostly ours already, Harry. He doesn't know. And you won't tell him. You'll find yourself unable to act against Summer's interests."

"You-"

"Belong to Scathach. Scathach is one of mine. Now, take the wand."

Harry's hand crept forward slowly, and she placed it in his hand.

A surge of fire filled his body, and his hand felt as if it would never be the same again and it hurt and hurt and-

A rune was carved on Harry's right hand.

Fate/Summer.

"You are... the Knight of Titania, Lady Summer, Harry. You will do the bidding of the Seelie, and forever oppose that which is not within our interest, for as long as you live."

**Mangekyo**

Harry jolted awake suddenly.

"Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a-"

Clutched in his hand was a slightly red wand, and a little rune danced on his palm.


	54. The Eyes of the Brewing Storm

Disclaimer: I don't own this. I barely own my soul, let alone HP or the Sharingan.

**Mangekyo**

After the burn in his hand subsided, Harry found that it brought him a sense of comfort that was beyond dangerous. It was difficult to shake the feeling that everything would be alright and a sense of peace he associated with laying about lazily on a field.

Summer. It finally made sense. He knew why Scathach chose Grindelwald now. If Grindelwald had taken the First Blaze from Livius... he might not have even entered into Fate's weave.

"We set ourselves on fire", he quoted. This particular bit was from Havelock Sweeting, the Unicorn Master, and the Archmage who had invented the Dueling Flurry as well as his very own set of Runes. They weren't very powerful, but Runic Alphabets were narry-impossible to simply create.

The little rune on his palm whispered soothing warmth, caressing his very sense of identity. It seemed to be the opposite of the heavy-handed tactics that Titania had used.

"Avada Kedavra!" he snarled.

The light wasn't a bright bottle green, but an earthy color. The very magic in him seemed to protest the perceived loss of life.

It splashed over a conjured chair and the chair disintegrated.

"Jeg a csokkeno csillag! Tellium Glacies!" A slightly cold mist leaked out of his wand in place of the strongest offensive Ice-based magic he knew. The Cold Falling Star was a Hungrarian spell which had destroyed a hundred and ten wizards in the space of a second by snap freezing all of them. Instead of the Spear, a stream of lukewarm water left his wand.

He tried it with his hands, to the same result.

He snarled.

"I'm going to kill them all", he growled. "All of them!"

"Why are you being so violent, Harry?" Aoko asked.

"Because I'm going to kill Voldemort today."

"Isn't Nicholas-"

"Yes. Kamui", Harry muttered, focusing all his energy on Nicholas Flamel.

A moment later, he returned. "He's busy. Dumbledore's owl-mailed me Voldemort's coordinates."

"And you're just going to go and confront him with no backup?" Aoko asked.

"Yes."

"Take us with you."

Harry looked carefully at the seven Mages of Universal Research, frowning. "It is my belief that only three of us will be capable of dealing a killing blow to Voldemort, and possibly only myself."

"Are you underestimating us?" Cornelius challenged.

"No. Voldemort has a Fate rune. I don't know what it is, but it is potent enough that being speared by the Hallowed Light was not enough to put him down."

"Two, not three", muttered Touko. "If he has a Fate rune, the Miracles will possibly precede. Fate/Remove, from our tests, is capable of destroying _anything_. Your Kaleidoscope should have somewhat similar of an effect."

"You're not leaving yet, children", came a voice from behind them.

"Lord Philosopher!" "Nicky!" "Mr. Flamel."

"We'll go in three days. Voldemort isn't moving any time soon, and the six months aren't close to being up. Now, duel me, Harry Potter. Let out your anger."

The bolt of fire left his wand in an instant.

Nicholas parried easily with his own wand. "I picked this up, recently. Albus sent a three hundred page letter of recommendation about wands to me the other day."

Harry didn't respond. "Brand bombe!" The Danish spell left his wand in huge flashes of light and heat, but Nicholas countered with a Sprinkler charm of all things.

"Messy, Harry. You dueled with far more proficiency during our time at Rome. All I know are a collection of Shield charms and household goodies right now."

"Fire!" Harry screamed, not bothering to use incantations as his wand belched out a huge jet of flames.

Flamel conjured a flame-retardant frying pan and swung it through the air, catching the untamed elemental magic. He then proceeded to throw the pan, at Harry.

"Katastrofeas Floga!" The Greek Fire consumed the entirety of the frying pan and headed at Nicholas with huge speed. The members of Universal Research stood to the side, staring at Harry.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" The blob of Greek Fire jumped upwards, and Nicholas sent it careening back at Harry.

Harry snarled, responding with, "Meng hou!" The Mongolian Flames were developed by Genghis Khan to incinerate even stone.

Flamel hit the roaring flames with a Direction charm and reversed the frontal burst. The flames exploded as everyone but Harry threw up shields.

The runes on his hand greedily drank in all of the fire.

"Are you ready to duel me serious now, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded and began a textbook Dueling Flurry, his anger abated.

**Mangekyo**

Confidence. He had gotten a small measure of confidence at last. He managed to disarm Nicholas in several minutes (possibly due to the fact that he hadn't had the wand for very long), but he was dueling with a measure of intelligence once more.

"Harry Potter. My name is Harry Potter."

With a new wand (despite the fact that it wasn't working perfectly), he was capable of the finesse required in creating his Kaleidoscopic Prototype wands once more.

"Fate. I make Fate. To draw power from Fate. To draw power from the Kaleidoscope..."

He finished his last touches on the second prototype.

"Avada Kedavra!" A jet of green light, powered by existences that weren't his own, left it.

The conjured chair burst into flames, but the wand shuddered and cracked, reminding Harry of the way his Holly wand had all but fallen apart in front of him.

"Tellium Glacies!" A spear of ice, the first Dueling spell he had learned from Professor Flitwick all those years ago, shot out. The rune on his hand were entirely inactive. "Yes!" he cried, even as the wand shuddered again and turned into little diamond flakes.

He began constructing another Prototype.

"It took Kischur Schweinorg over forty years to construct something similar to that."

Harry didn't want to kneel, didn't want to show respect, but his knees gave out beneath him.

"You've managed to circumvent the restrictions placed on Summer. How very ingenious. I knew you were a good choice, Harry."

"You used me. You told me you were to make me a King. The same way you used Cu-"

"Of course I did! You're very useful, Harry. It's not everyday that a Fatebreaker is born."

"I met her. I met the Queen."

"You poor dear." A light kiss found its way to his cheek, and he closed his eyes. The rune sent a measure of peace through him again. "I think you should let me... tend to you."

"I'm fine", he managed to croak out. "I need to-"

"There will be consequences if you do not listen to my suggestions, Harry."

Harry nodded and his feet moved mechanically through the halls of Clock Tower into his room.

"Show some enthusiasm, Harry."

"I can't."

"You will."

He did.

**Mangekyo**

It was three hours before Scathach simply disappeared from his room, leaving him sitting on his bed with a wand in his hand. He dressed himself with several waves and walked back to the now-full lounge.

Battlespells. In preparation. Everywhere.

Harry lent a portion of his magic toward a failing personal ward that Hector was casting.

"Professor Dumbledore", Harry smiled. A pensive look quickly entered his face as he thought of the Summer Fae.

"Professor. I believe, the First Blaze-"

"What is it, my boy?"

"I think-" He found his mouth unable to move, and a sort of pain enter his hand.

"Professor, have you thought of who to pass the First Blaze onto?"

Dumbledore gave him an encouraging smile. "The mantle of the Leader of the Light is quite important, my boy. I do believe there are several years left to my life, but when the time comes, I'm sure you will be a great successor."

"Thank you, Professor", Harry whispered, his heart sinking. He willed Dumbledore to read his mind with Legilimency, but the man seemed to be above the invasion of privacy.

"Gather around", Dumbledore's voice rang over the crowd that had appeared. "We are here today in order to get some of what we shall call preliminary planning out of the way." He frowned. "Lord Voldemort is quite a powerful individual, and from years of studying his habits, and the proper way to combat him, myself and the Order of the Phoenix bring you these information dossiers..."

**Omake by Foonator**

People keep reviewing "Wouldn't it be awesome if Alyssa Potter was a Dark Lord?" Well, here's your wish.

**Alyssa Potter: the Dark Transgender**

Disclaimer: Alyssa is not actually a transgender in this. I respect your life choices, but I don't know anything about how to write in relation to them.

Albus Dumbledore and the figure clothed in swirling black robes (despite the lack of wind) were opposite each other in the battlefield that was Hogwarts. Death and destruction was the order for today. The aged wizard lay broken and bloody on the ground as his wand soared through the air, landing in his opponent's hand.

"Why?" Dumbledore croaked, his breathing labored and his eyes full of shades of sorrow.

"Why would I spell my robes to swirl about my personage? Because such eccentricity is expected of people like me, of course. It gives me a certain measure of legitimacy. Besides, I like it. It really adds to the whole 'doom and gloom' theme I'm going for." The figure stopped to admire its clothing for a brief second.

The bottle green eyes glowed with a shade reminiscent of the Killing Curse - insane and powerful beyond belief - as they bored holes into Dumbledore's soul.

"I made sure to thank Snape before I transfigured him into toad and fed him to my snake. Slowly. I named my snake Ovid, did you know that? After _his_." A giggle accompanied the statement.

"But if you're asking why I would attack Hogwarts, the answer is simple. I needed to fight you. Beat you. Destroy you! You see, I've taken a passing fancy to your former wand. The moniker 'Master of Death' is far more pleasant than 'Voldemort', I think. Ever since I've received the Stone, I've realized that my Cloak was something more. I had to... catch 'em all."

The figure pulled back its hood. The smiling face of Alyssa Potter, beautiful in a timeless sort of way, loomed over Dumbledore.

"It's kind of funny, really. I'm supposed to be the... _Girl_-Who-Won, The Chosen One, the Servant of the Light, the- I'm sure you know all my titles, Albus. I can call you that, right? We're old friends, after all." She smirked. "Seriously though, I have even more hyphenations than Tom ever had. I'll chalk it to superiority in every aspect."

A secretive little grin began to make its way across her face.

"And that's why they never see _anything_ I do coming."

The aged wizard writhed under her Cruciatus, thoroughly surprised at the sheer cruelty of the curse.

"I'm going to kill you, Albus. I'm going to rip my way through your mind. Like _he_ would have. Then, I'm going to kill everyone who still resists. I'm a tad unsure on whether I want to take over Britain or not. Burning it down seems _so_ much easier. It'll probably take a century or to before something trite and satisfying like world domination is possible. We both know that _you_ are the only thing protecting the world from all the things that go bump in the night. I wonder what _he_ would do? That other me is such an enigma, you see."

"Wh-who?"

"Why, Harry Potter, of course. The King of _everything_. I'm surprised you haven't noticed the little shifts in the fabric of reality. Those happen when he visits me."

"The breaking Dimensional Veil", Dumbledore exclaimed, horrified. "Wh-what have you done? Inviting something like _that_."

"I didn't even do it. Do you know the sheer extent of his power, Albus? Do you know how much power _his_ Albus is supposed to have?"

She pondered that for a brief moment.

"I'll write out a list of things he's capable of later. But times a-wasting, and these fools wont kill themselves... unless I make them. I do love the Imperius Curse so very much. Something I'll consider later. Anyway, I bid you a good death and a happy afterlife. As for myself, I'll never die."

As she was raising the Elder Wand to proceed with the mind raping, she paused. "Oops. Almost forgot."

She reached into her robes and pulled out a... present?

She tossed him the package and urged him to open it. Seeing his life at an end anyway, he oppened it.

"...Socks?"

"Yep," she said with a shit eating grin. "Figured I'd thank you for inadvertently gather the Hallows. You'd better appreciate it too, it was such a pain writing out your full name. I hope they can make a gravestone big enough to put it AND all your titles on."

"Goodbye, Albus Percival Wul- ah fuck it. What does Harry say instead of Legilimens? Tsukuyomi!"


	55. The Eyes of the Fated Encounter

Disclaimer: I don't own this. I barely own my soul, let alone HP or the Sharingan.

Author's Note: This has now become advertising space for HopelessRomanticist's www. fanfiction. net /s /7038096/ 1/ Fate_ReNight It treats Nasu canon much better than I do, and his writing is anything but bland. Go and check it out! And leave reviews, noobs! *smiles*

Author's Note: I don't know how satisfying this is, but I liked the way it turned out. A lot. I ask your humble opinion about what you think of this. Also, tell me if you don't feel the "Hero of another story" vibe from Matthew (who will not be appearing for much longer, unfortunately). I don't think you guys know how fucking difficult it is to write a good duel scene with the Mage's Association and Dumbledore. It's like, the entire Fellowship of the Ring vs. a single Ork.

**Mangekyo**

"Can you go over the plan again? Except, succinctly?"

A few members of the Order of the Phoenix glared at Aoko, but Dumbledore chuckled goodnaturedly.

"As you wish, Miss Aozaki. Now, tell me. Are all weapons ready?"

Harry tapped a used milk carton that had been spelled to contain eight thousand runic slips and fingered Gellert's wand. If Dumbledore recognized it, he had purposely refrained from speaking about it. His other hand ran along the sides of the twenty two diamond wands he had managed to create the other day in his pocket.

Around him, everyone was silently confirming the existence of their weaponry.

Nicholas had drawn Balmung and it had sunk halfway to the hilt even as he dropped it onto the ground carelessly. Spurred on by a bit of one-upmanship, Harry pulled both the Crimson Ruby and the Joyeuse from within him and they both landed on the ground with a thunk. Everyone stared at them, waiting for the next move.

Before Nicholas or Harry could decide on the next course of action, Aoko had snatched the Joyeuse from the ground.

"Awesome! You brought a sword for me, too!"

"Do you know how to use it?" Perenelle asked gently.

"Well, no..." Aoko blushed. "But-"

"This isn't the time for you to be experimenting with a magical sword. Harry, dear, put it away." Appropriately chastised, Harry quickly drew it back into Kamui-space. Nicholas smirked at him without any sense of competition.

Harry found himself missing the Kusanagi and the Caliburn.

"Now that that's out of the way, does everyone have their Portkeys and Teleportation-coordinates?" Dumbledore wondered aloud.

Harry nodded, the longitude and latitude of his target memorized.

"Remember not to break ranks as we breach Little Hangleton. There is little we can do about Muggle-related disasters", Dumbledore gave a heavy sigh. "But we'll try our best to herd them away from the fighting. Remember this", he glared sternly.

"I will lead the Order of the Phoenix in for Muggle extraction." He gave another stern look to the various members who seemed to resent his statement. "The majority of these Mages are far beyond you in battle prowess", he reminded them.

"The Strike team that will smash the wards and spear through will consist of five people, to be determined. Nicholas and Harry will definitely be within this unit."

"Let me go with them", muttered Aoko, looking unsure for the first time. "I feel the tendrils of Fate tugging at me, a sure need to dive into the breach... err... I can't think of anything that sounds cooler than that."

Nicholas burst out laughing, but he seemed to be the only one who thought she was funny.

Perenelle stood. "I'll go, Albus. I can't bear to let Nicholas do this alone."

"Oh, the drama", Nicholas groaned. "He's one sorcerer with a Fate rune. Big fucking deal. This isn't the Great War. This isn't Loxias. This is a little terrorist punk who thinks he's big shit or something."

There were a few uneasy chuckles.

"I'll be the last member to go", said Matthew. "I'll be representing Universal Research. According to Harry, I have a certain amount of armor provided by Fate/Flow, and my Gematria chants provide very good protection."

Dumbledore nodded. "Now that we're all accounted for, we shall begin." He waved an intricately carved wand that Harry recognized as a source of immense strength. All of the Portkeys glowed.

"This is your last chance to back out", Harry shouted over the din of nearly-activating Portkeys.

No one did.

"Kamui."

Harry appeared in the small British town known as Little Hangleton, his wand at the ready.

Aoko melted out of the ground, and Nicholas flashed into existence. Perenelle had appeared in a spray of fine red mist that looked horribly similar to blood. Matthew arrived by Portkey.

"They're at the village entrance, Aoko", Harry muttered, assuming she hadn't listened to a word of Dumbledore's.

They stood in front of a decrepit old manor house.

"Wardbreaking. This is not my specialty, but I'm sure you are more than capable, Harry. Command us." Nicholas sheathed Balmung.

"Matthew. Gematria, reversal, third chant. Nicholas, Elijah's Falling Flames with me, on three. Aoko, the Gematria will light up all the weak points as if they were Christmas decorations. Lady Flamel, do as you believe is wise?"

"Hebrew?" Nicholas wondered.

"Yes. I'll be utilizing the Arabic. Matthew, start chanting now."

Matthew brought his hands together in prayer and began whispering quickly. The soothing phrases of the Gematria threw up waves and waves of pure magic through the air.

"Down. Left flick", Harry muttered. "Back flick. Magic is my creed. Forward snap. Magic is my creed. Eelea al-lahab asacut!"

The Gematria system hit the wards on the manor. The wards easily repelled the nonspecific effect, but the magic clung onto it as if it were napalm, and gravitated to certain points in the dome that surrounded the manor.

Harry directed the huge burst of Flames, partially powered by Fate/Summer. The wards cracked like glass, but the black and gold anchor points held firm.

"Watashi wa ta no dare kareri-."

"Speak some bloody English, woman!" Nicholas growled.

"But I'm actually Japanese! And you're totally messing with me! You know more Kanji than I do!"

"It doesn't matter! What does that even mean?" The shiteating grin was shiteating.

"It's my soul Aria! I can't chant it in English! Screw you, Nicky!"

Aoko completed her chant. "This is the nuclear option, Harry. The one that I didn't use on you."

A huge black line left her fingers and slammed into a ward anchor. Nothing happened at first.

Then a Point formed at the anchor and began throwing lines _everywhere_, covering the entirety of the Wards. Aoko didn't even look strained.

"Boom."

There was no actual explosion. The Wards simply disappeared as if they were never cast.

"This is the Miracle of Entropy as it should be used, Harry", Aoko smirked.

"The Green spark signal! They've evacuated all the Muggles. Second layer assault, now", Nicholas called out, his skin taking on a silvery sheen that indicated use of the Philosopher's Stone.

Harry sent the used milk carton careening through the air with a charm. The runic slips flew everywhere as he activated them.

"Ponno tis ammou!" he cried, the final phrase being the infamous Pain of Sand.

Some of the slips dissolved, spraying huge amounts of the spell's materials everywhere. And then the sand expanded and vibrated like a blob of some sort.

There were several screams within the Manor as the sound of Apparition was heard.

The sand swallowed up the structure whole and retreated into the ground, crushing the entirety of the wood and stone structure bit by bit.

In the distance, the voice of Albus Dumbledore was heard. "Blaze of Merlin, Attend me!"

A huge gout of the First Blaze tore through the air, superheating everything that wasn't a wizard.

"Amaterasu!" The Fate/Summer rune glowed as the black flames jumped out of his right Eternity and joined the conflagration of the First Blaze.

The Sand instantly became glass.

The Wind and Water provided by the Barthomeloi siblings tore through the air as a localized typhoon of sorts, sending molten glass and sharp shards everywhere.

Harry nodded in approval as the figure of Lord Voldemort burst out of the rubble, horribly burned, his wand of white yew jumping between his hands.

"Lightning. He's charging a lightning spell of some sort." Nicholas muttered. "He's dividing current between his hands."

Sure enough, a jet of the element jumped straight at Harry with a huge bang.

Harry waved Grindelwald's wand in an arc, and a small burst of the black flames neutralized it easily, destroying the magical content of the spell.

"His rune. It is Fate/Zero", Harry muttered in realization. Nothing else would allow him to imbibe other powers in the way he had.

Harry recognized the spell as a trademark of House Avery. The split lightning was really obviously created, but impossible for people who didn't possess the blood.

Several spells flew towards the man, undoubtedly from the Order of the Phoenix, but Voldemort's body contorted like a snake.

"Black. Body transmutation. He's stolen the Black blood as well", Harry muttered. Lorelei, who had appeared near him, looked horrified.

"He's stealing Bloodlines?" she all but screamed.

"Observe. Do you see it?"

The Earth manipulation of House Selwyn was in effect. A huge shield of thick dust and dirt formed around Voldemort.

"Susano'o-dono", Harry whispered. "Everyone, get back!" he shouted, as silver and gold mist leaked out of his every orifice and formed a sort of armor around him.

"Never cut twice... never cut twice", he muttered, the mantra helping him focus.

The Sakecutting Sword blocked the flying dust which was attempting to choke the various mages.

"Adapt and reflect. Reflect and adapt. Adapt..."

The Mirror of Yata wrapped around the entirety of the assault team and the dust was neutralized in a huge spray of mist. It began to rain mud.

"Pyroclasticas!" Voldemort cried.

Harry groaned in frustration, snatching the volcanic buildup out of the air with spell after spell in a Flurry-esque motion.

"Do something!" Harry roared as he stopped another clump of lava from frying an Order member alive. Flamel, too was shooting debris out of the air at insane speeds. "This is like playing missile command in a muggle arcade!"

Voldemort's wand was producing more and more volcanic discharge.

"You're all useless! Aoko, blow them out of the air, damn it!"

Aoko complied.

Harry stared at Voldemort's spinning red eyes and growled in anger. "Amaterasu!"

The Shining Heavens burst forth from the ground and very nearly consumed the Dark Lord, but Voldemort managed to move out of the way in time to dodge the worst of it.

"I did it", Matthew groaned, sinking to his knees. His Gematrian chant had ripped through the anti-Portkey Wards that were activated after the destruction of the Manor's dome.

The Pyroclasm Curse had been interrupted, and now, the Order was Portkeying away, leaving the members of the Mage's Association and Dumbledore at the scene.

Voldemort looked confused, then angry.

"Avada Kedavra!" came the high, cold voice, but it was just a single killing curse, and Harry dodged very easily.

"You've stolen my birthright!" Harry roared, the flames of Amaterasu leaving his eye in jets. "Fly, Caliburn!"

Harry traversed the distance between himself and Voldemort slightly faster than the speed of sound, surprising the older wizard greatly.

It appeared that Voldemort was a master of defensive spellwork, as Harry collided rather painfully with a barrier, breaking through it through the use of his Charge Step and the speed of the Caliburn itself.

"Barriers. The Malfoy craft", Harry identified.

Voldemort didn't answer him, choosing to fire another burst of lightning at Harry. Harry's Charge Step absorbed it.

Voldemort hissed in frustration, and Harry realized that Voldemort had no set Absolute Defense.

"You call yourself a Sorcerer!" Harry mocked, flinging spells that Voldemort had never seen before, but countered perfectly with his eyes.

Harry snarled as he watched Voldemort pick up his edition of the Flurry.

"Overwhelm him!" Harry suddenly realized. "Overwhelm him! Power! More power and he'll fold like a house of cards!"

He dropped to one knee and pointed his wand at the still-floating Voldemort.

"Summer compels you!"

A huge burst of fire, hotter than anything he had summoned against Flamel, and more virulent than Fiendfyre itself, jumped out of his wand in quantities that Harry would have taken minutes to match with his Right Eternity's Shining Heaven. The rune on his hand sent a shudder of pleasure through him.

"The Blaze of Merlin attends me!" Dumbledore shouted, adding his own fire to the mix.

"Truth beyond the Creation!"

"Entropy realized!"

"Flow reversed!"

Tactical nuclear missiles had _nothing_ on the sheer destruction caused by the utilization of five Fate runes.

Harry felt the stifling effects of Fate/Zero cut off suddenly, and he knew Voldemort had lost.

The fires stopped.

"Incant the Soul Cage", Harry muttered to Matthew.

"That's Kaballah, Harry. I'll do it", Aoko shouted over the roar of the dying flames and exploding Black Points.

Her voice began as a low chant of very quick Hebrew.

Magic washed over the clearing and Harry realized that she didn't quite have enough magic left, and began a mime chant, utilizing his slight precognition. He joined hands with her.

Matthew, who was a genius of the Systems, picked up the twenty five verses after two listens and added himself to the pair, chanting in a slight crescendo.

"Ahh, yes, I remember it", decided Perenelle after several more listens. She ducked under Harry and Aoko's joined hands and stood within the circle, turning and chanting three-against-two and creating a sort of syncopation that added _depth_ to the magic.

Harry suddenly broke away from the circle, snapping his wand in a repeated motion and walking in formation around the area in which Voldemort's soul was entraped.

"What's he doing, Nicholas?" Dumbledore queried, staring at Harry's footwork.

"Those are the Eight Trigrams of the Tao, the rune known as Fate/Seal. Observe the coalescence of the magic, Albus." For a moment, Dumbledore was brought seventy five years into the past, when he was a bright-eyed young man studying under the greatest Alchemist in history.

"Seal!" Aoko called out. Perenelle and Matthew echoed her and Harry spread his hands.

The rune whose path he had walked flashed gold and shrank in size until it became an octagonal prism of golden light with black smoke trapped within it.

Harry levitated the System Seal and presented it to Dumbledore, whose face had become grave.

"This... is a Soul Fragment", Dumbledore stated heavily. "Precisely, a very small Soul Fragment. Ruptures... generally split souls in two. Voldemort has split his soul at least four times."

"_Fuck_ it all", Harry spat. "Kill him. Kill all of him. We're going to kill all of him!" he shouted. "Amaterasu!"

The Black Flames consumed the Systems Seals whole, destroying both the soul fragment and its container.


	56. The Eyes of Marble Phantasm

Disclaimer: I don't own this. I barely own my soul, let alone HP or the Sharingan.

Author's Note: Kaleidoscope is nearing the end... Ten chapters, give or take 3 or 4, but no less than 8. I've scrapped all the finales but two, the True ending and the Happy ending. The True ending is sad enough without the Miserable ending coming into play.

It's been a long journey, fraught with perils of many kind - plot holes and cliches being prominent among them, and daily updates punctuated by long moments of laziness. It's going to be damn rough from this point onwards. By rough, I mean that it will be very, very hard to write. And when I say very hard to write, I mean that it will be of higher quality.

I know everyone expects daily updates from me to a certain extent, but that's not something I can promise any more. I am attempting to close this story, resolve the Chekhov's guns, recycle the stuff that you paid no attention to, and simply write on a level that some of my best chapters have approached. That is, each chapter will have quality similar to Chapter 53 in content, and perhaps length.

Many of my readers will stop reading, I think, but the majority will enjoy it, I hope. This will include scenes that have been in my head since the very, very beginning, and somehow managed to make the cut. These chapters won't be gory, or full of sex, but all the same, it will _not_ be for the faint of heart.

Author's Note: 1000 follows? :O Wow, people _do _read this.

Author's Note: Also, I had like 31 reviews in the last chapter. Did y'all hate it _that _much? I'm so confused. Even my regulars just... chose not to review. I'm sort of confused. I thought it wasn't terrible...

**Mangekyo**

"I never did get along with anybody else. I've been trying so hard to do right, but it's been so hard..."

"Hermione..."

"I don't even know if I'm Hermione anymore."

"All human knowledge... you've made discoveries that would make him proud. Even now, every moment is one in which you receive more and more wisdom. More and more-"

"Daphne."

"Experiences that could benefit all of our-"

"Daphne", Hermione said a bit louder.

"What?"

"You're far too excited. I read up on Reality Marbles very recently, and... they're not good for you."

"Why wouldn't they be good for you? You had to be kidding, right? Was that letter-"

"I was not joking with Harry in that letter. I haven't seen you in years since you last spoke. My mind, however, remembers the conversation as if you just did. I am definitely insane already. It's a long, long, long way down, but I'd held my head high the entire time. But I'm too far gone, Daphne. Too far gone."

"Too far-"

"Thousands of years have passed, Daphne. I find myself capable of being Hermione, and capable of being Knowledge. The question is more along the lines of 'why should I keep this farce up'?"

"Wh-what?"

"The Hermione you know is dead. She died a human lifespan, studying in a library of her own making, a library of humanity's making. All that's left is a monster. A monster that takes and never gives. A monster that-"

"You're not a monster, Hermione!" Daphne grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Don't touch me, Daphne. It brings no pleasure to me any longer."

"Hermione, why-"

"You're useless to me, Daphne. Do you understand what I must do? I must surpass Harry Potter. Even after a thousand years, he was capable of breaking into my mind with ease. I just managed to lock away my experiences within the space of the Marble itself before he ripped through the entirety of my life."

"You're going-"

"The best vengeance is living well, Daphne. Harry's going to regret how he treated me. I just have to learn enough."

"You're deranged."

"Maybe."

**Mangekyo**

"Red. I like it."

Harry gripped the small bloodstone that hung around his neck.

"But I'm not changing my name. That's just ridiculously stupid. I'm Harry Potter, and I'll always be Harry Potter."

There were several mutters in the crowd, but Nicholas didn't look worried.

"It is a matter of no consequence, Harry. You will take the position?"

"Yes, I will."

"Do you swear to uphold the secrecy and sanctity of Magic? Will you take the mantle of the Blood Knight, the Primary Red of the Association?"

"So I do swear to the secrecy of Magic. So I do swear to the sanctity of Magic. So I take the mantle of the Blood Knight, the Primary Red of the Association."

Polite claps were heard all around.

"What do you bring to the Association, Red?"

"I bring power. I bring legitimacy. I bring Magic", he stated plainly, repeating the words of the first Red.

"State your name, and perform your greatest feat."

"My name is Harry Potter. I am the Soul of the King."

The resonance of his Reality Marble washed over the crowd, and they were given a shielded glimpse into his world.

The mutinous whispers were silenced. Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg, the other scion of the Kaleidoscope, roared in laughter.

**Mangekyo**

"Are the Fae runes more powerful than the Fate runes?" Hector finally asked, examining the little clay pieces that Harry had carved.

"No. But they are far more direct."

"Explain?"

"The Fate Runes can only be harnessed in certain ways. The Fae runes will give you... instructions as to how to use them, if you do. Generally, it doesn't do _only _what it tells you, so do use them with as much caution as should be accorded to something so volatile."

"Like the Fae themselves?"

"Yeah..."

**Mangekyo**

"Pray for a death in battle like a real man", Harry muttered, the verses to his Reality Marble spread over his workspace.

"No..."

Line expansion was among the most difficult things in the word.

Harry gave up after several hours, going back to his original project.

While formation of the Marble Phantasm was even more difficult, there were at least two other minds on the project, and he knew that they were getting closer to the root of the matter.

"It all rests on Fate/Tranquility", Harry continued to mutter.

"Fate/Tranquility. The rune of acceptance..."

Harry wrote out an age-old prayer, and glared at it. "No power in this prayer... No power..."

A little voice niggled at the back of his mind, and he quickly penned, "Neither does Akasha", on his stone tablet.

A little note that Aoko had jotted down came to mind, about the true nature of Perenelle Flamel.

"Believe in nothing, not in the Light nor the Darkness... believe in nothing but... the truth... in equivalent exchange..."

The creed of the Alchemist was likewise left alongside the descriptions of Perenelle's strengths.

"War, the moment to fight, preserved by the warnings of..."

Harry threw the stone tablet across the room in frustration.

"Marble Phantasm... to look upon creation and change it fundamentally, yet to preserve it eternally."

He grabbed at the stone tablet and it flew into his hand.

"The Systems... to possess the hope that whatever you desire shall come to pass."

His mind ran over the Kaballah Soul Cage incantation.

"Are they related?"

He muttered several words of Hebrew, but then gave it up, choosing to run the phrases through his mind.

"High speed aria casting, something Aoko excels at due to her knowledge of the Systems..."

A maid knocked on his door. "Mr. Red?"

"Harry", he growled.

"H-harry, sir?"

"What is it?"

"Miss Blue wishes to-"

"Tell her I'll be down at the lounge in a second."

Harry slipped his wand, which had been rolling around on his desk, into his sleeve and walked out, clutching the tablet.

He walked through several corridors, contemplating the secrets of Magic.

"Harry."

Harry sat.

"I think I've made a breakthrough."

His eyes snapped to Aoko's.

"I just need you to write out the Fae Runes again."

Harry frowned. "I don't know all of them."

"How many do you know, of the seven?" Aoko wondered impatiently, her fingers twitching in anticipation.

Harry conjured four trays of sand and a brush, and proceeded to draw the Fae runes out.

Aoko looked from one rune to another, then froze. "This, this rune is Fae/Balance, right?"

"Yes, it is the premise behind Equivalent Exchange and other alchemical-"

"I've solved the problem. If Man made Gods... complete the statement. I know you can, Harry!"

"If Man made Gods... Nature made Man?" Harry paused. "The Fae made Nature?"

"Systems! Systems!" Aoko shouted. No one was working anymore, choosing to stare at the moment of Harry's revelation.

"If Man made Gods... Gods made Man."

And suddenly, it was clear to Harry exactly what the concept known as 'Marble Phantasm' was. The sand on the trays shifted and twisted as Harry threw magic into them, and his brush strokes flew in desperation and he drew Fate/Materials against Fae/Balance, chanting his most familiar System - the Kaballah.

A single bolt of lightning struck through the window, hitting the sand in front of Harry.

He smiled as each member of Universal Research clapped.

**Mangekyo**

"As the Red of the Association, I have convened the Marshalls and Department Heads to witness something previously thought impossible."

There were whispers and Nicholas looked on encouragingly.

"Marble Phantasm."

The whispers became furious arguments and Perenelle looked at Harry _very _sharply.

"Of the many magics, the most difficult are Alchemy and the Systems", Harry began, despite protests to the contrary and some disapproval from members of the Association. "They require one to believe in something beyond themselves. Man... made Gods", Harry whispered. Full attention was on him now.

"Alchemy, powered by the concept of Equivalent Exchange, with a backdrop of the Truth of What Was... does more than simply transfigure an object." Harry waved his wand, and his glass of water became a pewter mug. "It changes it irrevocably." Harry's elementary chant solidified the magical component of the pewter, removing it, and it truly became a different substance.

"Systems, powered by the concept of Soul, with a backdrop in the various Flows of Fate... does more than cast any spell." Harry's lips moved in a standard chant and the podium he stood in front of _exploded_. Someone screamed, but Harry's chant continued, and all the wooden shards were held in place by an inexorable force - the strands of destiny and fortune.

Harry's chant stopped, but the wood stayed suspended in the air.

"Marble Phantasm is yet another dimension. It is the sheer belief that anything the subject chooses will happen. The name is apt, Lord Philosopher."

Harry's hands glowed for a moment, and the wood cracked, then slowly reverted into its base magical components, water and earth. The water pulsed and danced as if it were alive, but the earth was stony in its stillness, projecting a sort of cold that came from silence.

The water changed shapes, jumping about the room without any visible prompts from Harry.

"What you must realize is that those actions are inexorable. In a single moment, I gave it the specific magical instructions, and now, the water is off like clockwork. I cannot stop it without utilizing very specific magics."

"In fact, I can think of only three ways to cut off the Flow, so to speak. It is either within the power of the Fourth or Fifth miracle, or by overpowering the magic I put into it. In this specific case, the reversal rate is exponential. If I put in a tenth of my power, it might take everyone in the room to stop it. That is the true power of the Marble Phantasm. It simply _will _not be stopped by normal means."

The water stopped its motion, and winked out of existence. The earth was transfigured into another podium.

"That is all. Questions?"

The members of the Mage's Association clamored for his attention.

**Mangekyo**

"That went damn well", Nicholas congratulated. "Perhaps I should ditch my current study of wands and go over the Systems once more. They have evolved quite a bit since the fifteenth century."

His companion, the Archmagus Zelretch, roared with laughter.

"Why are you always laughing?" Aoko asked him quite bluntly.

He stopped, then resumed laughter.

"Kischur, shut up", Nicholas said. "We're here to congratulate Harry and present him with a Sealing Designation."

"Really?" Harry stared, flames building behind his hand and in his right Eternity.

"No."

Zelretch laughed even louder.

"Are you some sort of buffoon, Marshall?" Aoko asked, clearly frustrated by the man's mannerisms.

Zelretch continued to laugh as Aoko chanted a short System, forcing him to shut his mouth.

He stopped laughing.

"Albus wanted me to tell you that he's made a breakthrough on finding the remnants of Voldemort's soul", Nicholas explained. "It has something to do with the Horcruxes he mentioned, and he expects you in his office within the next week."

"I'll go now. I can't stand parties", Harry said, disappearing.

"Can I go with-"

"No", came a voice behind Aoko. "I'm about to have a bit of a revelation myself, dear sister, and I need your help."

"Awhhh", Aoko groaned, sounding much younger than she was.


	57. The Eyes of Winter

Disclaimer: Don't own this.

Author's Note: Some of the le gasp about to happen. The crazy shit? It go down. Six chapters (the number got cut down as I combined six chapters into three) to go, as well as the Endings. If you make it through this chapter, there won't be any more crazy plot twists. I don't think more than eighty percent of you will keep reading after this. Wow, I'm anticipating the loss of eight hundred readers. That's fucking pessimistic. T_T

Author's Note: Five hundred thousand hits. Holy crap.

LoveBassClarinet: Not exactly true :X - I associate reviews with approval, rather than good writing on my part, though sometimes that goes hand in hand :| Some of my favorite work (such as nmb's The Skitterleap) don't have many reviews, but are far better than what I know I'm capable of :X Thanks, though :D

**Mangekyo**

"It's been two weeks since our victory, Professor. Have you made a breakthrough that quickly?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Not quite as quickly as you, it seems." He held up a missive that bore the elegant, unyielding script of Nicholas Flamel. "Congratulations must be given on the account of your insights into Marble Phantasm. I believe that we are currently the only human beings in the world capable of it."

"Us, sir?" Harry wondered.

"Us", Dumbledore confirmed. "When I was younger, my rune was..." He bared his shoulder, where a triangle with a diametrically bisected circle within it showed.

"Fate/Materials", Harry whispered.

"Yes. When I was younger, this was known as... the mark of the Deathly Hallows, three weapons created by a trio of brothers who possessed a differently piece of the rune. You... my boy, are in possession of one of their weapons, as of many years previously."

Harry's mind flashed through his experiences. "A gift... from my father... the Cloak of Invisibility." He started.

"You are truly a brilliant young man, Harry. You will be quite the worthy successor to the First Blaze."

"Professor, why couldn't Havelock Sweeting just have died without passing the First Blaze on?"

Dumbledore looked troubled for a moment. "It is my belief, Harry, that doing so will revert control of the first Blaze to an entity so great and terrible that it would spell the end of humanity as we know it. When it comes time for you to receive it, I will make sure you know the whole story..."

"Sir, what are we doing tonight?"

The was a loud knocking on the door.

"Oh dear. It appears that we shall be interrupted by someone quite unpleasant."

A woman wearing a stomach-syrup colored pink cardigan with a face in the shape of a toad's stormed into the room.

"Hem hem!" she shouted furiously.

"Would you like for me to cure that cough, Madam?" Harry asked, highly affronted by her sheer presence.

"Who are you?" she asked. Her voice was irritating in ways that Harry couldn't stand.

"As someone whose barged into a meeting uninvited between myself and Professor Dumbledore, I'm sure you have a right to that question", he responded.

The woman looked rather angry for a moment, then regained her calm, but as she opened her mouth to speak, Dumbledore cut her off.

"Now, now, Harry. You don't have to antagonize Madame Umbridge."

"_This_ is Harry Potter?" she asked, looking positively excited for a moment.

"_This _is Madame Umbridge?" Harry parroted. "Oh wait. I don't know who the fuck you are."

"Why, the nerve!" she screeched. "I'm-"

"And I don't care. We're taking care of business that involves highly volatile soul fragments that are likely to possess people at the moment, and you're infringing upon my research. Continue this, and I will put you down in the name of the Mage's Association." He wasn't actually going to kill her, but the threat was surely credible.

"I'm the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of M-"

"Can I kill her, Professor? Or will it make your job difficult? Why is she here?"

"She is my Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Harry."

The _she_ in question sputtered.

"Surely you didn't hire her", Harry stared, horrified. "What could she know about magic? Her core is tiny!"

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "That, my boy, is a story not for this time-"

"No, I think this is a great time! I'm gone for several months and this place is accepting flagrant violations to the Hogwarts charter. I'm sure Daphne had something to say about this."

"Ms. Greengrass has been quite silent of late, Harry, but several students have expressed mild displeasure in Ministry practices."

"Hem hem."

"Silencio", Harry enunciated clearly. "There. You'll be coughing a lot less now. Now get out!" he shouted.

The woman raised her wand, but Harry's hands glowed and a bolt of lightning flew through the open window and fried it.

"Oh, I believe something divine out there disagrees with your actions." He smiled nastily as Madame Umbridge scarpered.

"There will be consequences..." Dumbledore warned.

"For the school? The school's untouchable. Dippet said it best, 'There will be help for those who seek it at Hogwarts, no matter how dark the days', I think?"

"Yes, something like that. Was that a demonstration of Marble Phantasm?"

"Yes, Professor. It is... very potent. To cause a lightning strike, I've used less power than it takes to cast a levitation charm."

"Fantastic, I shall borrow your notes later, if you don't mind."

"Not at all, Professor. Back to the task at hand?"

Dumbledore's face turned grave. "It is my belief that Voldemort has made seven Horcruxes. Tonight, I will seek to destroy two. I have confirmed the location of one, and the possible location of another, from memories of the boy known as Tom Riddle."

Harry nodded. "I'll be assisting you for the weeks to come, I believe. I have been granted leave..." Harry paused and smiled. "I have granted myself leave from my duties at the Association for this purpose."

"Ahh, yes. I believe it takes only two Primary Colors to pass an Executive Order?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Yes sir. I will be at Hogwarts for the rest of the year, I think."

Dumbledore smiled. "Well now, Harry. Do take my arm. Today, we'll be assaulting Gaunt cottage."

Harry nodded and was pulled into a particularly powerful Apparition.

**Mangekyo**

"Dumbledore's gone from the castle, Hermione. Are you going to take this opportunity?" Daphne asked, somewhat hollowly.

"I will. I've been at this school for too long anyway. With Harry gone off to do better things, Dumbledore's the only person I can learn from here. And I have surpassed him."

Daphne snorted lightly in disgust, but schooled her expression as Hermione stared at her owlishly.

"Are you really going to steal it?"

"Yes. It is a repository of human emotion and mental stability that I need to have."

"Very well. I'll- I'll help out."

Hermione and Daphne left the room on the third floor, walking through the corridors of Hogwarts slowly. As they came upon the statue in Dumbledore's office, Hermione readied her wand.

"Hammeren av tordenguden!"

The Strike of Thor bucked out of her wand and slammed into the Gargoyle, blowing it into a million pieces. Daphne's shield flew up with the speed of years of practice.

"Cover me", Hermione ordered as she ascended the steps.

Daphne nodded, readying her wand.

As predicted, within seconds, teachers came running.

"Miss Greengrass, why I-" McGonagall exclaimed, but Daphne's Stunning spell had already left her wand. The Transfiguration Professor ducked out of the way.

Snape's wand flashed and a clump of black ichor flew at Daphne. She recognized it as the Sleep of the Sick, a spell designed to put someone in a temporary coma for medical experiments.

Daphne blocked it handily, and realized that she would have to respond with extreme prejudice, or she would be overwhelmed.

She drew her wand in a wide arc. Harry's lessons rang in her mind, and she found herself imitating his habit of muttering the motions rather than the incantations. "Down. Up. Swish, circle, Peasant's Slash. Round out, spin. Left hand pull", she murmured. "Nordic Blooded Eight, Indonesian Fantasy of Mind and Shadow... Fourteen thoughts of Destruction. Kushite series."

She dodged yet another spell from Flitwick, weaving past them as she had seen Harry done while casting.

"Back flick, turn, fall." She dropped to the floor, completing the sequence and avoiding a more aggressive Lightning Fork curse.

"Smurt na Zvevda!"

She pointed her wand at the teachers with some regret.

"Tahe Lokemist!"

The little ball of white light known as the Falling Supernova left her wand, arcing over Snape's head and landing on the ground behind them.

Flitwick's eyes widened, recognizing the incantation. "Get down!" he squeaked. The three Heads of Houses dropped to the floor as the concussive blast tore through one of the walls, sending the debris of an entire wall raining down onto the ground. The heat and light generated by the explosion melted several suits of armor.

"Stupefy, stupefy, stupefy", Daphne snapped out, stunning all three of the downed teachers.

Hermione emerged from Dumbledore's office after several more minutes.

"What took you so long?"

"Oh, there were very many trinkets in there that weren't in use. So I liberated those too." Hermione's bag rattled. "The wards are too thick here. We must get out into the forest before we leave."

"Harry could just-" Daphne mumbled to herself, but Hermione heard her.

"I'm sick of being compared to him!" she screamed at Daphne. Her eyes were wild, and her hands shook.

"I'm not comparing you to him. I'm just reminding myself of his skill set", Daphne shot back.

They continued towards the Entrance Hall with their wands out.

**Mangekyo**

"Wands out, Harry." Dumbledore was holding the piece of Fate/Materials in his hand in the form of a wand. It was known as the Elder Wand to most, and Harry vaguely recognized the mythology. It was a huge show of trust to tell him what it truly was.

They stood in front of a hovel not far from where Voldemort had made his last stand. The blackened crater that had been a manor house was still visible in the distance.

"The object we are looking for is most likely a ring of some sort, one that belonged to Salazar Slytherin."

"The Sage's Spoils of War?" Harry mused. "Why would he make a Horcrux out of something rumorred to have necromantic powers?"

"I believe it is the heritage that matters to Voldemort, and not the powers of the object itself."

"He was a fool."

Dumbledore made no motion to show his disapproval in Harry's words, but Harry caught it in the man's step.

A gout of fire slammed into the hazy black dome that was visible to one eye.

"Medium strength", explained Dumbledore. "These are pretty heavy wards. We can either take them apart, or blow them out of the way."

"I am capable of a certain amount of magical containment, Professor. Perhaps it would be wise to break through them conventionally."

"Very well." Dumbledore's wand glowed white as he began a hybrid chant, utilizing elements of the Gematrian systems and the Hallowed light to produce a huge bolt of energy at the tip.

"I shall release it on three. Shield us", Dumbledore commanded. It was rare to hear the man so perfectly decisive.

There was a slightly tinkling sound and the bolt of energy lanced out of his wand. Dumbledore's hand recoiled from the pressure released by the magic and the spell slammed into the wards with an effect similar to a sledgehammer on glass.

The wards exploded.

"Susano'o-no-Mikoto", Harry chanted over and over again as he drew long arrows out of his right eye, a bow from his right, and wrapped up the magic of the failing wards within his own.

After several moments, the remnants of the destroyed wards had stopped falling.

The door fell open with a crunch, and Harry peered inside the little shack, memorizing every detail to perfection.

"Do you feel it, Harry?"

"Yes. In the strongbox..."

"This will require some finesse. How do you propose we got about this, Harry?"

"Fate/Remove would work quite well, but the potential backlash can kill us quite easily. How would you have done it if I weren't present, Professor?"

"I would likely take more than one trip. The first would be to survey the contents of the wards with special equipment. Then I would decide which route of wardbreaking was more dangerous and choose the other."

"I want to finish this up as soon as possible."

"I suspected that." The smell of Dark magic of the dead and rotten variety was vaguely nauseating to Harry, and he could only imagine what Dumbledore felt at the moment.

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry cried sharply, his left hand on a diamond wand. The green curse splashed over the strongbox with little to no effect.

"Too obvious", Dumbledore said.

"Something elemental, then?" The strongbox burst into flames.

"Too weak", Dumbledore said. "The fires of Marble Phantasm are confined within the bounds of Nature. Blaze of Merlin, attend me!"

"Amaterasu!"

The box burned and burned and burned.

"It seems almost absorptive, almost... conceptual. The box is a box is a box."

"Summer!" Harry roared, the rune in his hand glowing. This was the biggest clue he hoped to send to Dumbledore, but the man seemed to have gone selectively deaf.

_The flames of Summer can burn concepts_.

The strongbox melted away as it was erased in every sense of the word.

Floating in the air was a ring - a ring that Harry recognized from memories years past. Memories that the Kusanagi had gifted him before it had shattered.

Strands of magic rushed in all directions, surrounding him, but Fate/Remove stopped them from getting close to him.

Dumbledore had no such luck. He staggered over with an insane glimmer in his pale blue eyes and reached for the-

A wave of dirt threw him through the door, freeing him slowly from the influence of the enchantments placed around the ring.

"Amaterasu!"

The magic burned and burned as Harry stood pumping the strength of Fate/Remove at the ring. Dumbledore limped through the door and added his own Blaze to Harry's Eternity, creating a sort of power that would have been unimaginable to very many people.

The room finally cooled after several minutes of waiting and ice-based charms. Dumbledore walked over to the charcoaled floor and pulled a small river rock out of the gold that hadn't evaporated.

"Yet another piece of Fate/Materials, Harry."

Very suddenly, a Patronus of all things pranced up to Harry. It was huge, regal eagle whose beak suddenly opened.

"You have a message, my boy."

Harry turned to the eagle, and the voice of Fleur Delacour, musical and soothing greeted him in a rapid French she knew he understood.

"We need a fifth member to seal the circle. We've caught the escaped demon. The coordinates are-"

"I must confess this comes at a terrible time", Dumbledore decided. "It appears that Madame Umbridge has finally managed to destroy my gargoyle. I must go back to Hogwarts. Good luck, Harry."

"Kamui."

Dumbledore stared at the space on the ground for a moment, then Apparated to Hogsmeade.

**Mangekyo**

When Harry arrived, the Demonhunters and the token force from the Mage's Association were in disarray. The Succubus was flinging little bolts of energy that seemed to disable anyone it touched.

"The Red is here!" a girl no older than twelve shouted in relief, half-giggling and sighing.

_Emotional trauma_, Harry noted.

"Our Blood Knight is here, Demon! You won't stand a- hurk" Harry's fist crashed into the man's shoulder, sending him careening into a tree.

The man looked at Harry with disbelief for a moment, then realized a bolt of the black magic had smashed into the area he had been forcefully vacated from.

"Less talking, more dodging", Harry growled. A rain of pebbles intercepted the magic the archdemon was slinging around.

Fleur's rapier jumped and twirled through the air, blocking tails and claws from shredding her into pieces, and occasionally drawing small amounts of blood.

"We're going to seal this one", one man grunted.

"Whatever for?" Harry shouted over the din.

"This one's caused the Organization and the Association very many problems. I would be very glad to show it... it's _place_."

"That's a demon", Harry said, vaguely disgusted. "You're disgusting."

The man shot a glare at him, but in the last light of the sun, Harry's crimson cloak glowed so malevolently red that he was instantly reminded of the position that Harry held.

"Sorry, sir."

"Oh, don't be. I should be the one who asks for apologies from you."

"Why would that be?" The man looked so confused for a moment it was almost comical.

"Because you've proven that you make a great meatshield." Harry reinforced his arm with the Charge Step and held the man in front of him. "Fly, Caliburn!"

The man's back tore through the more deadly of the Archdemon's spells and slammed into it.

With a cry of triumph, Fleur buried the Delacour Rapier into the demon's skull. It screeched and died.

"Well, that was anticlimatic", Harry remarked.

"Perhaps for you. We've been fighting this for fifteen minutes."

"That's life", Harry responded in French. "I'll be returning to Hogwarts for the moment. I've actually given myself a break. Blue signed off on it and all."

"Look at you. Such a big man now." Fleur and Harry chuckled.

"I'll find you later, sometime this month", Harry said finally.

"Are you asking me out on a date, Mr. Potter?"

"No."

They both laughed some more.

"Goodbye, Fleur. Kamui."

**Mangekyo**

Dumbledore clutched the Stone of Resurrection in one hand as he flew back to the Castle with a borrowed broom. He would be arriving by the Entrance Hall, and not by the Astronomy Tower, as he had planned. Undoubtedly, that would be where his confrontation with Umbridge happened.

He pulled his broom to a stop as he approached the huge oak doors and charmed the broomstick to fly back to Madame Rosmerta, who had lent him the artifact.

The first sign of something wrong was the sheer amount of debris that littered the ground, very obviously from the castle walls.

He looked upwards, and was dismayed to see that someone had blow out an entire section on the wall, and briefly worried for the safety of his students.

The doors opened with a dramatic boom, and he realized that the situation was very similar to one that he had walked into several years previously, despite the fact that it didn't involve Harry Potter.

Hermione Granger and Daphne Greengrass stood directly in the middle of the large room and their wands were out. The first clutched a bag, undoubtedly full of his little trinkets and doodads, and the second looked very uncomfortable.

"Albus Dumbledore."

"I do not believe we are on first-name terms, Ms. Granger, but it matters not at the moment. Why have you broken into my office?" Dumbledore's demeanor was calm, but there was a tension beneath his voice, a snapping sort of resonance within him that guaranteed strength.

She seemed to have not heard him. "Just the person I was wishing to confront."

Dumbledore frowned. This was not the Hermione Granger that Harry had described to him offhandedly in their precious few conversations, nor the girl his staff referred to.

"You're not as powerful as Harry, but you'll do for now."

Dumbledore's frowned deepened. It was probably true that Harry had surpassed him, due to his abilities with Marble Phantasm and the Reality Marble, but hearing it made him feel far older than he had ever.

A jet of brownish green light pooled at Hermione's wand and flew at him. Dumbledore's frown never left his face as he parried it easily.

He would not put her down with extreme prejudice. He would have to find out what had gone wrong. Why one of his students utilized dark magic without any sort of mental strain - to the degree that Tom Riddle couldn't have accomplished until very late in his life.

Her wand glowed a soft white-blue, and her hair was pushed out of the way by an unseen wind, and Dumbledore stared straight at a glowing rune on her neck.

"No", he breathed. He had failed her. "Blaze of Merlin, Attend me!"

The wintry magic that left Hermione's wand pushed against the First Blaze with a sort of intensity that the spectating students - even the ones that had watched Harry duel Voldemort so many years ago - had never seen before.

The magic in the room subsided, and both parties were left spent. Dumbledore and Hermione circled one another slowly.

"Why did you do it?" Dumbledore shouted, showing anger that he usually kept in check behind his vast mental defenses.

"Because I need to learn magic more brilliant, because I need to gain more power, because I need to defeat _him_", Hermione screamed back.

"Who do you speak of?" Dumbledore queried, though he knew the answer already.

"Harry", she whispered.

"That's not a good reason to make a deal with those _things_."

"I did not know that the great Albus Dumbledore was capable of racism." Hermione gave a harsh laugh.

"They're not like you and me", he almost pleaded. "They don't have souls. They're _entities_, a sum of certain specific human experiences that you _cannot_ comprehend."

"Oh, I know. I know _far_ better than you do. After all, I am, too, a sum of certain human experiences, as is Harry. Look upon my soul, Professor!" Hermione manifested her Reality Marble for but a moment.

Dumbledore snapped back, horrified.

"Like Harry, I have utilized the most powerful of all magics. Like Harry, I'm not entirely human any longer. As the Twenty Ninth, Misery, defines his soul, the Thirty Second, Knowledge, defines mine!"

"That does not excuse-"

"Does not excuse my deal with Winter? Does not excuse my _need_? Does not excuse Avalon? Albus Dumbledore, you are blind. Avalon is... the most beautiful of all things, beyond all that you could possibly comprehend and in truth, beyond all that I will know." Her lips pursed.

"Blaze of Merlin, Attend me!"

"Might of Winter, I call your Name!"

The concepts of equal strength clashed. It was a show of pure power, utilizing the strength of Albus Dumbledore and Hermione Granger as channels.

A quiet voice rang over them.

"Eightspan Mirror of Yata. Adapt and _absolve_. Fly, Caliburn."

Harry Potter had arrived, and suddenly, the clash of concepts was neutralized by the shield he had wrapped about his body. He slammed into Hermione with the strength of a wrecking ball, but a rudimentary shield of the coldest magic had every felt kept her from death.

Even so, Hermione was knocked to the ground in a barely moving heap. Harry's red cloak billowed behind him.

"Daphne, we're going", Hermione said urgently, dragging the girl off with her.

"I don't think so", Harry said. "You lied to me. You chose to attack the guardian of the human race, at his seat of power. I don't know what you've done, or who you've made deals with." He paused. "But you're still an arrogant little girl, Hermione. You may equal or defeat the Fae or the Gods, but it doesn't change the fact that you are ignorant of what is right. This is why you cannot leave."

Hermione glared at Harry for a moment. "I'll kill everyone I can if you don't let me go."

Harry frowned. "Then I will kill you."

"But is it worth it? Are all these lives worth mine?"

Harry exhaled sharply. "No. Leave, Hermione. And know that you can run, but you cannot hide from the Divinity of Space-Time." His Royal eye flashed blue and gold.

Hermione huffed.

"Daphne", Harry said quietly.

Daphne looked at him for a moment - really looked. There was no magic involved as they stared at one another. Harry noted that her eyes were clouded. The eyes of someone exposed to magic too terrible and powerful for most humans to keep their sanity from.

Daphne hung onto her sanity by a thread.

"You don't have to leave, Daphne."

"She's mine now, Harry Potter. Mine."

"And you belong to the Queen of Air and Darkness. Daphne. Don't go. Please don't go."

Hermione gave a harsh laugh. "You're such a hypocrite, Harry."

The doors to the Entrance Hall slammed shut behind them.


	58. The Eyes of Those Who Infiltrate Prisons

Disclaimer: Don't own this.

Author's Note: Holy... crap... it's been... weeks. I'm actually sort of sorry. I was like, just yesterday, saying to myself, "I updated Kaleidoscope three or four days ago. No need to break a sweat." Then I was like, "didn't I say that three or four days ago?" And then I was like, "Holy- I said that two weeks ago. Fffffffffffffff-"

So here's the extremely late update. It's ~2000 words not because I want it to be, but because I want to churn out an update of some quality. If I wrote the promised 5000 today, it'd be crap, honestly.

Author is a Whore: Please review? :D

Author's Excuses and more Author's Note: I've been writing lots and lots over the past three weeks. I feel as if my skill with writing has reached a sort of plateau due to the super-rapid expansion, and I'm falling back to Kaleidoscope (until it's done), to see if either my peaks are punctuated by troughs (hopefully not), or if I'll continually improve, bit by bit. Hopefully you can see more a more technical form of writing taking place here. If you see any glaring wtf-errors, it might be because I typed this up on my iPod. lulz. Feel free to check out my other crap - it's pretty much a huge amount of sometimes-funny stuff that's geared at improving my skill and capturing an audience. I haven't received much of an audience anywhere but Kaleidoscope and Credo, but I'm pretty sure D minor is far better than either.

Last Author's Note: I really am sorry I didn't update this sooner. Most of it had been written already, like, a week or two ago. Honestly!

**Mangekyo**

"This is not your fault, Harry."

"Professor, I don't think now is the time..."

"Now, Harry. Listen closely. If the Blaze of Merlin is the tool of the leader of the light, Marble Phantasm is the tool of old men. I propose a permanent trade. To complete Fate/Materials, I must utilize the Cloak of Invisibility. I believe that you are ready to take the mantle of the Archmage."

"Professor..."

"Surely you must know that you are ready."

Harry gasped, fighting the warm, soothing and, ultimately, threatening rune of Fate/Summer. "Nngh-"

"Harry, this isn't the time for theatrics. We must solve this problem as quickly as possible. We still have time for yet another excursion tonight, if we shall finish this now."

Harry nodded in resignation, gripping the edge of Dumbledore's desk as a punishing pain tore through him. He wasn't fazed. He had allowed himself to be hit with a Cruciatus curse in the world of Tsukuyomi, and even that did not hurt him much. Not after his experiences with Fae/Misery.

"The strength of the First Blaze is the ability to burn Souls, Harry. It is a judgment equal between all, and a power approached by none. It has no effect of the concepts of things, as concepts are resultant of soul, but can exist in a medium without what makes us run. The soul... is an amalgamation of the mind, dedication and knowing yourself. This is why you can manifest the Storm God Susano'o."

Harry listened. He was aware, of course, but Dumbledore had a way with teaching that was far superior to any textbook or tome.

"The First Blaze has the ability to Augment you, much like your Charge Step and Nicholas' Truth."

Harry frowned. The Philosopher had sent Dumbledore far too much information about him.

"With the Flames of Shining Heaven, you are capable of burning Magic, which is generally the surest way to protect souls. It seems to exhibit some ability against concepts as well, undoubtedly due to the strengths of Fate/Remove. I know far less about the Fate series than you do."

Harry wanted to scream that the power to burn concepts came not from his Eyes, but from his hand, the hand of the Summer Knight, but the inexorable force held him back.

"Thus, in tandem, the Fires which can Obliterate All will grant you a measure of power that would match even that of Nicholas. It may lack the sheer destruction, but there is a certain subtlety that the Truth is conceptually against."

Dumbledore bared his left shoulder, the one which did not have Fate/Materials, and pointed at the patch of pale, milky flesh that wasn't his.

Harry felt the true nature of the First Blaze within the flesh, and he knew, suddenly, that the flesh had not belonged to the Archmage.

It was the flesh of the Summer Queen.

"P-professor", he ground out, throwing the full weight of his will against the strength of Fate/Summer. "I don't k-know if this is wi- wi-"

But Dumbledore wasn't looking at him. The old man's eyes were closed as he channeled the might of the First Blaze.

Suddenly, Dumbledore's eyes opened in a light shade of red and his right hand shot out, tearing the flesh out of his shoulder, creating a gaping, bleeding wound.

He flew at speeds that Harry could barely comprehend, even with the right Eternity, and tore a piece of flesh out of Harry's right forearm.

Harry screamed, but the flesh of the Summer Queen was slammed into him, and Dumbledore replaced his shredded shoulder with Harry's own flesh.

Dumbledore collapsed onto the table, breathing heavily.

Harry stared at the patch of pale flesh in mute horror.

"Ca-cauterize the wound, Harry."

Harry's wand flicked slightly, and a small flame closed the wound on Dumbledore's shoulder. The First Blaze repaired his own arm as if there never had been a wound.

Albus Dumbledore waved the Elder Wand, cleaning the blood up.

Harry did not speak a word as he pulled the Cloak of Invisibility from subspace and handed it to Dumbledore.

"The Cloak which had belonged to my family for generations is given to you, in exchange for the Might of Merlin, the might of the First Blaze, Albus Dumbledore."

"Thank you, Harry. Now, may I please have your notes on Marble Phantasm?"

Harry pulled his stone tablet out and handed it to Dumbledore. "It's magically powered. An innovation at Universal Research. All my work there is shown." Harry left out the fact that he removed everything to do with Reality Marbles from the tablet.

**Mangekyo**

"Hermione, you don't have to do this," Daphne said rather monotonously.

"Yes I do."

They were standing in front of a huge, grey fortress.

Carved upon the entry gate were the words "For the Greater Good."

"Now tell me, is it truly so, Daphne?" Hermione gestured.

"You can't do this, Hermione," Daphne continued, but her tone of voice didn't change, nor did she stop chanting.

"Don't you feel the hole in the wards, Daphne?" Hermione completed disregarded the other girl.

"No."

"You're useless."

A flash of hurt crossed Daphne's face, and Hermione triumphantly began prodding at the wards again.

"Impossible," Hermione whispered as she continued to fire off little bursts of magic at the dome-like warding structure. "There are space-time patches in the wards. They're too finely sewn for me to notice the difference in weaves."

"The Archmagus of the Second Magic," Daphne intoned, but Hermione wasn't listening.

The magic of winter pooled in her veins as she threw her head back in ecstasy.

Daphne's fists clenched and unclenched.

"The Cold has come," Hermione spat at the stone structure maniacally.

With the sound of snap-freezing, the golden dome froze over.

"The Cold unravels," she continued.

Icicles began to bombard the dome.

"The Cold destroys," she finished.

The dome shattered into a million pieces.

"Go, it's regenerating," Hermione shouted urgently as she tore through the gate with the speed of an Olympic sprinter.

Daphne threw herself through the gate as well and watched as the dome reformed as if it had never been damaged before.

"I believe that the wards have never been breached before. Something that not even Harry has done."

"Kamui," Daphne remarked. Hermione's face turned ugly.

"Yes, I suppose the Second Miracle would be a very good deterrent to Schweinorg's creation. Now, cover me as I breach the wards set by Albus Dumbledore. There is always a hefty Auror presence here, from multiple countries."

"You're asking me to murder-" Daphne's eyes widened.

"I'm not asking you to. I'm commanding you, Daphne."

Daphne nodded, her eyes closed.

**Mangekyo**

"Il y a longtemps que je l'aime... Jamais je ne l'oublierai," Fleur sang silently as they contemplated Nurmengard Prison.

"The betrayal is complete, to me, to the world," Harry said silently. "Freeing... Grindelwald..."

The raw magic running through his veins shattered the constructed wand he held in his hand.

"I must know... I need to know... what went wrong?" Harry continued furiously. "I'd been gone for several weeks, and... And this happens. I knew joining the Mage's Association was a terrible idea."

"Some things cannot be helped, Harry," a grim voice was heard over the din. Albus Dumbledore had arrived.

"Professor," Harry greeted.

"Harry. When I had heard that Gellert had been broken out, I feared the worst had come to pass. What I am aware of now indicates that there is far worse to come."

Harry frowned, bracing for impact.

"There have been readings over remote areas in Asia and Africa, possibly due to a Diversion Ward, that claim huge levels of demonic activity, and one demon in particular."

Harry nodded, having a very good idea of where Dumbledore was going.

"It appears that the Demon has been Sealed within him once more."

"The Ninth Circle Guardian." Fleur displayed a sort of eager awe that Harry had trouble reconciling with the normally intelligent girl.

"Yes."

"How was it Sealed?" Harry growled in displeasure.

"I imagine the same way it was Sealed originally. A Fae Diagram Summoning to bind it temporarily, and the predrawn Throne of Eight Trigrams activated."

"It's an abomination," Harry said, mostly to himself. "The Tao was used to contain demons for the good of the world, and the rune of Fate/Seal had been within their jurisdiction and their judgment for thousands of years. It is truly evil for it to be used in such ways."

"Alas, our conventional notions of acceptable morality has never applied to the Fae," Dumbledore reminded.

The tightly wound fear that Harry had replaced momentarily with situational anger flew back with a vengeance and Harry thought of the First Blaze once more.

"This represents a heavy advantage to Winter, Harry. I cannot help but believe that Summer hasn't folded, but is biding her time for a precise strike that would destroy both..."

Harry tuned him out, contemplating the accuracy of the original prediction.

A horrid thought struck him like a wrecking ball to the chest.

Scathach had seen four strands of Fate interwoven about him at their first meeting.

Was he but a tool of Fate, deriving heroism from circumstance and power from chance? Were none of his designs truly his?

Was it written as just another battle between impossible strong impetus and unmovable force?

Would he die for the greater good of destiny?

Was it even a greater go-

"Mr. Red," sounded a timid voice behind him. "Mr. Red?"

"Yes?" Harry could barely contain his irritation.

"The Association requests your presence, sir."

Harry snorted. "Where?"

"Prague, sir."

"Prague."

**Mangekyo**

"Nicholas. Archmagus. Marshalls, Miss Blue."

"You are late, Red."

"Simply surveying the damage to Nurmengard. It appears that Divinity crumbles in the face of the Fae."

Archmagus Schweinorg glared. Harry's Kaleidoscope surveyed him silently. While it was true that the man was deeply within the original design and perfected model of the Kaleidoscope, there was something missing from the man.

It hit Harry like a freight train.

This was a man who had sacrificed too many of his other selves. This was the true, the only, the concept of Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg.

He thought of the legend of the Man Who Dropped a Moon, the tale of the Archmagus in front of him.

He hadn't the magical power to do something with such power, so he had killed his other selves by pulling all of their magic from them.

He had saved the world in an exchange so personally vile and noble that Harry could not help his sympathy.

"My apologies," Harry finally decided. He did not wish to engender confrontation.

"Very well, Harry," said Nicholas, smoothly transitioning to the current interests. "As we know, Grindelwald has lost his Fate armor, but Albus tells me that he has passed on the First Blaze. Like it or not, Harry, you are to lead us in crises of faith, and other perceived jousts between good and evil."

"He's received the Blaze?" asked a woman, completely horrified. "Our Blood Knight has taken the Blaze of Merlin?"

Harry idly noted that this was the same woman who wanted to present him with a Sealing Designation.

"Shut up," muttered Nicholas crossly, but his voice carried through the entirety of the auditorium. There was an awkward pause in which the woman coughed delicately and Aoko giggled.

"The point is, we have to take initiative. We'll send people around the globe for investigative purposes."

"I call Japan!" Aoko shouted.

Everyone stared at her.

"Well, I figured that since I can read Moonrunes and understand Moonspeak..." she trailed off.

"Fantastic," Nicholas said weakly. "China?"

"I'll do it."

"India?"

Hector Barthomeloi raised his hand.

"Okay." Nicholas nodded in his general direction. "Siam..."

**Mangekyo**

Cut off there for now.

Let's see if I can get daily updates going again.


	59. The Eyes of Vengeance

Disclaimer: Don't own this.

Author's Note: Would you guys accept 'school' and 'college apps' as an excuse?

**Mangekyo**

"I'm warning you, Harry, that's not something you want to do."

"Shut up, Nicholas. I'm going to kill her," Harry muttered to himself, pacing back and forth.

"Not everything might be what it seems." The old, wizened Philosopher who wore the face of a kindly middle-aged man displayed a certain amount of willpower that Harry had trouble matching at his most angry.

"I will... have vengeance," he screamed, losing the little control he had over his roiling emotions.

Nicholas Flamel grabbed him by the collar and stared in his eyes. "Remember, Harry. If you shall sue for vengeance..." He abruptly let go of him, and Harry caught himself before he could fall.

"Dig two graves."

Harry did not speak.

"The sun is setting on the reign of the Fourth, the Lord Philosopher, just as surely as the sun had set on the reign of Merlin, Harry. For all your knowledge, you don't understand what is truly so special about the Second Miracle."

Some of the anger left Harry.

"You are a concept, Harry - _the_ Harry Potter, so to speak. And if you shall fall by spell or blade, you shall be erased for all of Eternity and across every world."

A little stab of fear tore at Harry, but his resolution did not waver. "I can kill her," he promised, partially to Nicholas, but mostly to himself.

"You can," Flamel confirmed. "But at what cost?"

The words said earlier rang within his mind.

"Who is she to you?"

"She is someone I once loved, someone who violated humanity itself. I love her no longer, and I cast my self, my magic, my-"

"You don't understand."

**Mangekyo**

"Here the water come in the middle of the night, the tide and the blue moon," Hector whispered, his heart pounding.

A surge of the element pushed out of his palms and slammed into the barrier.

"Break!" he shouted, mostly to himself, though some of his anger definitely powered the spell.

And the suddenly, the barrier was gone, as if it had never existed.

"You are from the mage's association, are you not?" The speaker was a blonde girl with a shapely face, dressed in a white shirt and a short green skirt. Hector stared for a moment before composing himself. There was a fairly good chance that she was more dangerous than she seemed.

The spell was so fast that he could barely register it as it hit him in the chest, sending him to his knees as he resisted it.

"Your magic. It feels like his. Like ours. Who taught you to shield damages to your person? Was it Harry?"

"The R-red did teach me to-"

Her face changed slightly, but the particular expression was lost in the Calcuttan sun.

Hector blocked the next spell with no small amount of trouble, and he felt the waters around him shift and heat.

"You are outclassed."

He knew it. This was surely Daphne Greengrass, one of the Red's closest confidants and-

No, there was no time to think.

"A son of the Barthomeloi... Water thicker than blood flows through my veins, magic unlike anything else in the world."

His skin glowed a faint shade of blue.

Daphne frowned.

A strand of water tore through the air, absorbing the vapor in the air and growing in size. There was a dry, oppressive wave of heat that preceded the water.

A root grew out of the ground and shielded Daphne from it. It was converted into a fine dust in seconds, but more roots had grown, draining water from the air as Hector's spell had.

Hector dashed forward, intent of engaging Daphne in a more personal fight, but quit as the roots grew about Daphne like an elaborate maze of thorns and spikes.

He pushed out several strands of magic and realized that escape by Apparition was impossible at the moment.

"It's not over yet," he promised himself, as he drew a gem out of his pocket.

It was something for emergencies only, and Hector certainly thought the situation qualified.

This was a work of his sister, a piece of magic that no one had ever defeated before.

He crushed the opal between his fingers, and a rune drawn in the oldest of languages became one with the wind.

Concentration, it was key!

"Shut," he tried. The magic was far beyond him. "Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut. Five times bound per repetition." The chant was one that did not belong to his family, but was categorized as one of the most powerful concepts - words crafted by the Archmage Schweinorg...

He retreated into his bound field.

"Still. Stillness. I am stillness, not become-stillness, but I have been still since the beginning."

His nerves protested as his body was converted into a single circuit.

It was not his Origin, but Lorelei's spell would not work for anything but her Origin.

"I'm about to die. There's nothing for me to do but accept it."

He ignored the bubble of fear, and begged his subconsciousness to identify it as something foreign.

"But I am still. In truth, I might have been dead for years, and I would not have known."

Daphne's frowned deepened, unsure as to how to act.

A single strand of magic, Hector's last personal thought before he melded with not-his Origin cut through the wards. A final message to the one he loved the most, describing his coordinates and his manner of death. Daphne did not notice it.

Death by stillness.

Still.

Still.

He was a core of stillness among the howling wind as a hurricane in miniature whipped up around him.

Daphne, completely alarmed, drew up wards and tapped into the power of something ensconced deep with the wards of the small manor they were currently inhabiting.

Her magic changed fundamentally. There was a maliciousness to it, a sort of _color_ that some would have described as crimson.

Something demonic.

Still.

Daemonica.

The ideas clashed, polar opposites by chance and not by design.

The world went white, a strange combination of the deep ink black lack of motion and the violent frenzy of hell.

Nothing remained of Hector Barthomeloi, but within the crater created by the singularity of magic, a blonde girl clutched onto a wand.

"A... alive," came a pained gasp.

Within the dwelling of House Barthomeloi, Lorelei sat with a stony face as she received word of Hector's demise in her bed.

Her eyes were downcast and her tears shone.

"Thus ends the life of a Magus of my family," she said to herself. "Lost in the name of the Mage's Association, in a battle not of our House."

She was Still, an illusion only propogated by her nature.

"All of them... will die. There... is no question of it."

A quick thought wiped the tears away.

"I shall have... Vengeance."

Something deep within her shifted.

**Mangekyo**

"A toast, Lady Barthomeloi. A toast to victory that shall be at hand."

"A toast to vengeance."

The corridor was dark, and there was the smell of death, of killing in the air. Two of the most deadly people in the world existed only to destroy another force, and there was no doubt that they would succeed. The mountains beyond the windows shuddered at their strength.

Aoko sat off to the side, watching them.

With a sudden motion, the window shattered and Harry leapt into the Norweigan air.

"Fly, Caliburn."

A hand dug into the soil midway up the mountain, and a huge chunk of dirt was ripped out of it.

The wand of Diamond flashed and Harry magic wrapped about it.

"My grave, Lord Philosopher," he told the wind, as a huge statue of himself was constructed.

"Here lies Harry Potter. Forever Miserable. He died a Hero."

He surveyed the memorial.

"India, was it? Kamui."

One of the watchers melted into the ground and the other followed him into the wind.

**Mangekyo**

"He's gone off to see the Wizard," Aoko announced before the Association's assembly. "Or perhaps the Wolf."

There was uneasy mumbling as Aoko giggled.

"I made a punny!" she exclaimed.

Zelretch, who usually roared in laughter at... everything... glared at her.

"What exactly do you mean," Nicholas queried, even though he knew exactly what had happened.

"They're both gone. Lorelei and Harry! Someone killed Hector from Universal Research, and he was her brother. His last missive were the coordinates of where Grindelwald and Harry's buddies are holed up."

"I'll send a message to Albus," Nicholas said, troubled. "They are quite powerful, but the Ninth Circle Demon subdued both the last Green and Red. Yet, the First Blaze might-"

"Albus Dumbledore knows Marble Phantasm now," Aoko said, a measure of seriousness in her tone. "He'll be invaluable. This will not become a protracted war, involving anyone but our people and theirs. This will be a quick, decisive assassination, like how we dealt with the Bloodline Thief. And that is my Executive Order as the Blue of this Organization, and the head of Special Operations in the Red's stead."

Her eyes were hard and her briefcase, usually slung around like a pendulum, was still.

"The Miracle I weave has improved by a fair amount. I believe that I will provide sufficient-"

"That is not necessary, Miss Blue," came the voice of Albus Dumbledore. "This... is my battle. Gellert will be brought down by-"

"All of you, stop. Talking. NOW!" Nicholas roared. "Two of our most powerful mages have run off to deal with a threat alone. We... mobilize in force! Now! Kischur!"

"And so I pray, _Kaleidoscope_," confirmed the grizzled man.

They disappeared.

**Mangekyo**

Here ends the main story of The Wizard of the Kaleidoscope.

The True Finale following this will be the length of several chapters ~10-20k, and will receive much planning.

Many things will be revealed. (Also known as, some of you won't be happy.)

I'm, on the whole, slightly disappointed in how this turned out - there was no other way it could have, with what I did for the first 35 or so chapters.

Hopefully, at least some of you have connected with the characters as much as I have. The way by which I write is through... Pretending, for the lack of a better word (it's a fantastic show, by the way). To fully understand a character, I act as the character while writing it. I've been Harry, Daphne, Hermione, Nicholas, Albus, Aoko, Fleur, Voldemort, and everyone else.

Kaleidoscope is an inextricable part of my person, and I'm sad to see it draw to a close as I'm sure some of you are.

I regret the lack of updates for the past month or so, but I really had to try to disengage myself from the story. There were times in which I contemplated what suicide would be like while standing in Harry's shoes (which are, by and the large, the most difficult to fill). I've wanted to turn over tables (and I've thrown my laptop several times) while pretending to be Aoko.

My emotional attachment to this is... higher than many writers to their stories, I believe, and... I guess there is some measure of success in the way I write... Surely this is one of the only stories that has received such an overwhelming (overwhelmingly good and bad) responses in 4 (3, really) mere months.

So where does this leave us?

My main project has shifted over to not Credo, as I've promised, but something else entirely, which will be posted after it is mostly written, and put through peer review by some of my friends (and betters. *cry*) over at DLP.

Sure, you might disagree with their attitude (I do too, sometimes), but never let it be said that there aren't damn good writers over there.

In the end, I think that Kaleidoscope has taught me a valuable lesson about writing - that it is impossible for me to write if I don't sit down and write.

It may sound stupid to you, so I'll expound. All my plans and grand designs have fallen apart at some point, yet I've still managed to churn out a story with some measure of plot. (Haha, Kaleidoscope, plot? Who am I kidding?). I think a character's going to act one way, but I don't truly know until I write the character out.

Writing is an organic process, especially for people like me - people who started out completely unable to put words on a page.

Over time, I've grown into someone who, well, could put words on a page, I guess, and Kaleidoscope has been fundamental to that.

Totally worth all the shit I receive when I tell my friends that I have to go home to write rather than chill with them.

Everyone should try writing :P Even if you're no good at it (sort of like me), you'll get better, and someone will read your shit (sort of like me, once again).

Just be grammatical. And format your stuff right.

I extend a promise to beta at least one chapter (less than 15 thousand words) of anything you write, with everything I've learned.

I'll also read any and all spinoffs of Kaleidoscope, and review them faithfully :P

And... perhaps, one day, the sequel to Kaleidoscope will come. It's already proving to be a lot more difficult to plan than this, on the basis that it'll be far more steeped in the Nasuverse, and the Nasuverse is... truly something scary to behold in its entirety.

Good night, for the second to last time, and good luck, always.


	60. Finale: Part One of Four

Disclaimer: Don't own this.

Author's Note: This is it.

Author's Note: This chapter will be structured a little differently.

All of this stuff will continue to be released within the same document - which you are undoubtedly following.

And reviewing.

Please review. It's the last chapter of Kaleidoscope, and I really, really, really want to break a hundred again. Please? What you say honestly counts. As you know, I respond to any reviews sent as soon as possible.

It is told in a linear fashion - the whole Finale is no more than three hours long. Rest assured, I've taken more than three hours to write this.

**Materials**

Albus Dumbledore moved with grace. It was a quality that transcended age, from a gentler time in history.

He was the only one who did not land in a heap of some sort, his extravagant purple boots clicking against the aged concrete pavement.

"He's not even trying to hide, neither of them are. They're practically leaking magic. So much magic," whispered a tracker. The tracker was a worm of a woman, her eyes shifty and her hands grasping a knife tightly. She reminded Dumbledore of a poisonous insect.

The tracker inhaled, and a look of intense pleasure came upon her. "Forgive me. I haven't been exposed to this much free magic before." Her voice was a scratchy whisper. Albus felt his skin crawl.

"Lead on, Ms. Dhulli." It always paid to be polite. _A general will laugh uproariously at your insults, but a soldier will resent even your constructive criticism._

Despite his old age, Albus had never felt so alive. There was a sort of oneness he felt with everything around him. Something from within the Earth itself was embracing him, was taking his magic and augmenting it in a most natural way.

No one spoke, preferring the loud honking of cars and the buzzing swarms of people around them.

The tracker ducked and weaved through the crowd, but the men and women of Calcutta shrunk away from Dumbledore unconsciously, as if they understood that he wasn't someone to be trifled with.

And then, they were there.

It was a relatively large crater, with a total of five people present. He idly noted the angry figure that Harry Potter cut, and turned his attention to his lover, his brother, his everything.

"Gellert."

His voice tolled in the silence, an old man's voice.

Gellert Grindelwald, still as unkempt as the day he met him, the day he fought him, the day he locked the man away, started. A trio of whisker marks, normally hidden by a glamour, were gouged into either side of his face.

There was a flash of guilt in the weathered face.

Gellert's grin, savage and feral, slipped.

"Albus."

For a moment, they were the only people who existed, the sign and the signifier.

"Why have you come here, Albus? This is not your Fate."

Gellert, by contrast, had a young voice, an angry voice.

"I have assembled them, Gellert. The Hallows, they are mine. You will not win this conflict."

The legitimacy of his claim was lost when his voice shook.

"And thus, we see the clash, Albus. Do you not? The soul of a demon Sealed within me, Sealed against mine. The soul of Humanity, purified against yours. Fate/Materials, the rune of those who wear the mantle of humanity as a Dress about their personage. Fitting..."

"You talk too much, my dear friend."

The Earth shifted against Gellert, a thousand roots of rocks and wind dancing to the time of the Elder Wand in Dumbledore's hands.

Grindelwald scoffed, all but ignoring the roiling dirt, and threw a blast of pure, malicious energy at Albus. As it zipped through the air, crackling, Dumbledore's other hand pushed against the force of the Daemonica, forming a shield of lost souls and dead personages.

The Power slowed and stopped, detonating, but it failed to penetrate the wall of sheer Humanity that Albus put forth, and there was a moment of silence.

"You are as powerful as I feared," Albus gasped, for Gellert was looking no worse for wear.

"You are as ingenious as I remembered." Gellert smiled somewhat fondly, his eyes losing the red hardness of the Ninth Circle's Demon.

Albus took a deep, shuttering breath and raised his wand against Gellert once more. "They say that he who holds the wand of Elder will never prosper, nor be defeated."

"They never were."

A duel of decades long past came to both of their memories, and for a moment, their eyes aligned and their souls joined.

_A flash of white lightning, an idea, an idea so profound... that it couldn't be human._

"_For this is the Blaze of Merlin, and I am the Protector of the Light, the last Protector of the Light, and so I pray, in the name of Livius, my father in my craft and trade, and Merlin, my ancestor in the spirit of..."_

_Gellert loosed a primal roar, shaking the very foundations of the concept of collective humanity. There was a wave of flinches among those who were still conscious._

_Albus didn't spare them a glance as the battle joined._

"This has happened before."

"Yes, isn't it marvelous? I have been given power like few others."

The wand came down suddenly to all eyes, and a torrent of power erupted from it.

And the battle was joined.

A terrible voice rang.

"I am the Soul of the King!"

There was nothing of the world that matched the _weight _in the voice. There was nothing in the world that had the same resonance, none of the same command. Neither Albus Dumbledore nor Nicholas Flamel were the generals in this battle, not when the King was on the field of combat, not when-

"Misery is my Curse and Magic is my Creed!"

Little roots sprang up around the battlefield, but most of them wilted under the sheer pressure of the magic that Harry Potter was exuding.

Albus' grip tightened on his wand. "I don't understand, Gellert. How was the Winter Queen capable of the Sealing?"

"The Winter Queen?"

Gellert's laugh was slightly harsh and more than a little bit nostalgic.

"There was once a woman... who gave me an idea, Albus."

Thunder rumbled in the heavens.

"A single idea, an original thought, so to speak."

The lines on each of their faces were visible.

"It was that I could be great. If I simply didn't fight Fate, and accepted a symbol. If I took something beautiful and marred my body with it... I could be everything I wanted to be."

The power of the Demon lurched, but Gellert didn't even sway, though his eyes showed the strain of his willpower.

"That I could be like you."

Albus swallowed heavily and a single ray of sunlight pierced the storm brewing as the demon's influence stayed under Gellert's control.

"It was just an insinuation. Just a single woman. But her words were greater even than all her powers."

"Gellert..."

"You still haven't figured it out, Albus? You were always brighter than me."

"There was only ever one person around when we drew dreams and planned the world, Gellert..."

"Yes. It all begins and ends..."

"No. She couldn't have been..."

"She was."

A red claw of energy jetted at Dumbledore, but it was parried by the wand. There was the smell of burning in the air.

"She couldn't have masqueraded for that long as-"

"But she did. You were going to receive it from the Light Mage, we all knew it. Do you know what she did? It was really quite ingenious." Gellert's eyes shone red in excitement.

A sort of blank look had invaded Albus' face.

"She killed your mother and proceeded to addict your brother to the joys of Avalon. It was ingenious, really. If there was one person who could convince you to heal with the Blaze forever, it would have been your sister. And thus, she took her form. Who have you given the Blaze to, Albus?"

Albus stared straight at the greatest presence in the battlefield, a measure of guarded hope in his eyes.

"He is hers as well. Even more than I was. She owns his soul."

The horror struck the white knight like a freight train and in an instant, all of his years were visible. "He wasn't wary of receiving the First Blaze. He was entirely adverse to it," Albus spoke quickly through his breath.

Then it dawned on him.

"A farce!" Albus howled into the roaring wind. "This has all been a farce! A farce perpetuated against the human race unlike any other! Avada Kedavra!"

The sickly green curse pooled at the end of the Elder Wand but did not leave it.

The Cloak of Invisibility billowed and the Ring glowed with all the might of Death himself.

"A servant of the Light to the last, Albus," Gellert said softly, a huge ball of red and black energy forming at the tips of his fingers.

The green curse swelled in size as Albus grew more _real_.

"No... You wouldn't. You are Albus Dumbledore." Gellert's eye widened.

"And thus, I follow in the steps of the First, Gellert." The color around Albus sharpened until it began to hurt even Harry's eyes.

"I will transcend existence, I will ascend to the Throne. I _am_ Albus Dumbledore!" the old man roared. "I will take the mantle of the Caster that saved humanity. I will break the Demon within you, Gellert, I will destroy you!"

Little particles of golden light flowed towards the spell from within Albus' chest.

"Your soul, you needn't sacrifice your soul," Gellert suddenly pleaded.

"I will do _anything_ necessary to save the world, Gellert," Albus said, some of the fire and vitriol gone, replaced by his cold wisdom.

"And as the first and last True Master of Death, he who holds the Key to Fate/Materials bound, bought and territorialized, I pray yet again... Avada Kedavra!"

The curse, sheathed in the golden light of his soul, began its journey.

Gellert's eyes widened even as Albus sank to his knees, the Wand snapped into two pieces, the Cloak rent into mere fabric and the Stone turned to dust.

The full power of the demon left his body, forming wall after wall of protection upon him.

None one moved or blinked as the golden and green pierced the Daemonica, one layer at a time without stopping.

A quiet chant in the background began.

"We commit his body to the ground, surely as he has committed his soul to humanity and his concept to the Throne of Heroes in Heaven forevermore," came the quiet voice of Matthew Lenova, the ever-forgotten scion of Fate/Flow.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. May Gaia recognize his achievement through life and death, and play no more games with him. May the last wishes of Caster Albus Dumbledore be fulfilled, may the Systems sing his name in lieu of sacrifice."

The Killing Curse hit Gellert in the chest and the man finally _died_.

As his body fell, Albus gave a final nod and the Earth rose up around him, pulling him into its depths.

In the respectful silence, a mocking voice rang. "I don't think this is quite over yet."

**Flow**

Matthew's head swiveled to the speaker and a bubble of indignation rose in him. "How could you think of battle in this moment? The greatest man of our age has passed," he bit out with a hint of rage.

The other laughed smoothly, her expression one that he was unable to understand.

"You are the Summer Lady."

"Aye."

"Your rhythm is different. Tainted. Wrong."

"Is it?" She didn't look the slightest bit concerned.

"Yes, it is. The little-"

She wasn't looking at him any more. He was insignificant to her, it seemed.

"I believe it is a good time to demand the Blaze of you, Harry. Summer's victory is nigh."

In an instant, Matther could see the strain in the air. The pull of the command against the Red's innate resistance. Another battle of legend, waged over mind rather than magic. The King and the Kingmaker.

Would the Red, too, be sacrificed in the name of humanity?

**Mangekyo**

Part 1 of 4.


	61. Finale: Part Two of Four

Disclaimer: Don't own this.

Author's Note: This is far later than I hoped it would be.

Well, stuff happened. My multiple (failed) attempts at NaNoWriMo (which has etched into my mind a numbingly-difficult and equivalently numbingly-epic work of high fantasy as well as a strange story of- we're not here to talk about that).

I mean, I could have at least tried to write some of this during November, right?

Well, I guess we can just view it as a break. I can get back into producing updates regularly, if slowly. Like, once a week. Hopefully. But they'll probably be longer.

Like this one.

Actually, not like this one. This one was hard to write - as you'll see, it's told in a different perspective, but hopefully that makes it more interesting, etc etc. Wow, it's not very long at all. Le cry. :\

Last time on Kaleidoscope...

**Flow**

In an instant, Matthew could see the strain in the air. The pull of the command against the Red's innate resistance. Another battle of legend, waged over mind rather than magic. The King and the Kingmaker.

Would the Red, too, be sacrificed in the name of humanity?

**Flow**

There is power in symbolism. Any good Mage would inform you of this. Belief in itself is a powerful force, but even greater would be Sacrifice.

Perhaps Mages walk the path of death not because their work is hazardous, but because their very existence is simply a sacrifice in the name of discovery. A gambit played with their humanity, their soul, their concepts.

"Mars is bright tonight," whispered a Seer from Sponheim Abbey, which had nearly changed hands to Cornelius Alba recently.

_Unnaturally bright_, thought Matthew.

In fact, the majority of the glow seemed to be shining on the corpse of Gellert Grindelwald.

The pale moonlight shone further and suddenly, there was an intensity of realization which spread through the more learned of the Mages.

Nicholas' hand shot to his sword, though it was more ceremonial than anything. Lord Zelretch's Kaleidoscope blazed a Noble Color, the thousand shades of white light hitting a prism. The greatest change of all came to Perenelle Flamel, one of the last remaining True Ancestors still residing on the Planet.

She had always been an ethereal beauty, a Princess from beyond the world with features that most fully human women had envied and most of the Flamel's Apprentices stared at in red-cheeked wonder.

But in the light of the Moon, she was an image of perfection unchained from the constrains of humanity.

"She's using the Demon's Corpse as a Gate," Blue whispered to him. Matthew started. He didn't even notice her. "Perenelle's trying to counter her efforts."

Matthew nodded, his hands fitting into Aoko's.

"Kaballah, it's all I know."

"I'll compensate," he promised, though he knew he wouldn't be able to.

Aoko's pupils dilated and shifted slightly in color. Her normally pale lips, now red and swollen from nervous biting, opened slowly with an alto A flat major scale. _The primer._

Matthew paled. There was nothing quite so serious that needed voice tuning, nor a High Scale in his experience. It was a practice that was long forgotten in the age of community - when Mages worked with one another and not alone.

His tenor voice slowly dipped into a Baritone as he matched Aoko's tonality.

And suddenly, the first notes of the most difficult magic densification ritual he had ever been privy to were heard.

Matthew lowered his pitch yet again as Aoko moved into a brilliantly beautiful mezzo-soprano and released all her checks upon her Fate.

Matthew's song became chants, quick, staccato rhythms that rang across the battlefield turning night into a strange moment of twilight. The light of the sun was pulled over the horizon against its will, mixing and blending with the wall of sound he produced.

The chant picked up pace yet again, though Aoko still had not quit singing her Density ritual, moving to a still higher pitch.

Aoko suddenly stopped, a jarring pause that broke the Flow that Matthew had created. He stared at her.

Aoko's magic surged to levels that Matthew had never seen. _That's why she needed me_, he realized.

Fate/Remove was the rune that "cut off the flow," according to the Red. Aoko's strength worked against the natural course of things, and were instances of time which were entropized, which were destroyed. By breaking one of the most powerful Systems they had ever chanted, she was able to exponentially increase her magic output.

He blinked, feeling useless and used.

Aoko dashed forth and leapt into the fray even as the maw of the Ninth Circle Demon rose from the Seal on Grindelwald's stomach.

"The Bringer of War," Matthew whispered, staring at the sky.

Perenelle had completed some sort of transformation under the light of the moon. She had the vague shape of a human, but she was far too beautiful to look at, far too beautiful for his unshielded eyes.

His chants began yet again. He didn't know precisely how he could help, but he knew that he had to do something.

"The greatest fallacy is to believe that you are justified in doing simply due to the fact that something must be done," he muttered, quoting a work of philosophy that he had long forgotten.

He pushed his slightly unkempt brown hair away from his ear, behind which his rune heated up just enough to make him uncomfortable.

Perenelle had literally drawn slices of the Moonlight and she was pelting them as Zeus threw Thunder. They looked awfully useless, as the demon rising out of Grindelwald's navel grew in size and a crushing wave of Malice settled over the Arena.

"I have incanted no spells to isolate my reality, but have always walked another path!" rang the Red's clear voice.

Surprisingly, the Malice let up, but only to be replaced with the somewhat familiar, dreadfully crushing Misery.

Perenelle threw her arms wide, and suddenly, the little pieces of the Moonlight exploded in a shower of white light.

Her hands moved like water as the huge red tails that blossomed out of the Ninth Circle Demon, lush foxy appendages, were pushed to the side and trapped against the charred ground with huge shackles of Moonlight.

"We must succeed," whispered a crone not five feet away from him. Despite the roar of the demon and the keening wail of the shackles strained, he heard the intent behind the crone's spell. The bolt of burning magic left her hands as a ring on her hand dissolved into the mist. It looked to be a wedding ring, Matthew noted grimly. There was power in wedding rings, in any commemorative object. The strength of the woman's marriage and, more importantly, her love - not only of a husband, but of everything it meant to be human - would power the spell.

Yet it was all but useless. The Gods were playing their games.

Matthew sat down quietly, wondering what he could possibly do. He was a hero, yes, but he wasn't the type of hero that the Red was, not the same type that Albus Dumbledore was. He was a boy who grown up saving little people from little problems. He didn't comprehend the power that anyone in the arena wielded, not even the meanest, newest Rune of Harry's.

He flicked the rune behind his ear. Fate/Flow. He wondered if he were resisting it by not acting, but he decided otherwise. From the Red's notes, Fate/Flow was a rune that gave him a sort of autonomy over his actions relative to others. A type of free will that wasn't of the word. It explained why he could walk through walls and doors enchanted with arcane magic. It explained why he could force power to other people's magic with nary a chant.

But it didn't help here. All the magic used here was somewhat Miraculous, and if it wasn't, it was too difficult for him to perceive.

But he had to do _something_.

He couldn't even cast a Killing Curse.

A short snippet of a conversation came to him suddenly.

_What do you know of fire, Matthew? It is something that burns and cleanses, but something that destroys and chars. Deeply within the domain of the Truth and of Removal, fire is. But fire also regulates, controls, turns and changes. Fire doesn't Flow, but whatever it touches upon... _does_._

"Fiendfyre!" he sang, with a sort of understanding that he didn't have before.

He directed jet of flame that was slowly changing shape into the ground. The huge Phoenix charred the earth at first, and then... it happened.

The heat pushed straight through the layer of dirt into the bedrock, and from the earth, a huge dragon of molten rock sprang into existence.

Already, there were welts on his face and his arms were steamed an unforgiving red, but he didn't stop. The control over the spell never wavered as he continued to chant.

He raised his arms over his head and he flowed into the Dragon. His mouth opened and let loose a jet of magma at the demon, which was breaking free at last.

A gout of flame, the elementification of Summer itself, rose to meet him, and far away, he could see an angry Faerie, her expression terrible and lovely, pushing the million shades of red, orange and yellow at him, no, at the dragon - he was not the dragon, even if he commanded it perfectly.

The bolt of rock and flame collided against the torrent of pure magic with a roar unlike any dragon he had heard before, an earth-shattering roar.

Then Aoko was beside him and he was Matthew again, not the dragon. The huge construct flared to life, to bring death, pushing around the fires of summer and burying itself into the demon even as the Summer Lady gasped, overwhelmed for just a moment.

"Impossible!" Nicholas shouted in disbelief as Zelretch roared in laughter, swinging his sword.

"Tonight, we shall lynch Malice itself!" the grizzled old bearer of the Kaleidoscope grinned, his jewel sword severing the tails off of the weakened demon, one at a time as he stepped over pools of lava, not the least bit affected by the heat.

"Melodrama at its finest," Flamel said solemnly as he lopped off the Demon's head.

The Red was now lazily dueling a pair of girls who Matthew recognized as the targets, even as the Fae Queen watched.

She didn't even look vaguely disappointed in the defeat of the demon.

**Remove**

Aoko looked grimly upon the battlefield. The largest question approaching her was a somewhat meta-issue.

_Why are we here?_

This was clearly a battle that Harry could and should have confronted alone. This was out of their jurisdiction, and they were inviting ruin by tearing old, unnamed accords asunder with their spellcasting.

Already there were cracks between the order presented by the Earth and the sanctity of magic, not magecraft, but the unsettling, incomprehensible knowledge of the Miracles and other derivatives of origin. There were fractures in reality itself...

She posited a question to herself. In what world would Matthew be capable of summoning Fiendfyre, when his very ability to cast magic was nonexistent? In what world could a single thought sever the strength of Fate/Flow?

She contemplated the question silently.

_In a world where our desires take form._

Then she knew, she knew and she wished she didn't.

A type of fabric was broken and, undoubtedly, she was the only one who realized - both Harry and Zelretch would not believe something so fanciful.

Yet the more she repeated it, the more she knew it was true. The more she repeated it, the truer it became.

She settled for a last word before all hell - no, that wasn't accurate, this was anything but hell - broke loose.

This was heaven.

And as she said it, she felt a rush of pleasure, almost as if she had summoned it in her own right.

This was... "Avalon."


	62. SOPA notice

The contents of this chapter have been removed under the Stop Online Piracy Act and the Protect Intellectual Property Act of 2012 for copyright violation.

DO YOU WANT THIS TO HAPPEN TO FANFICTION? IF NOT, PROTEST AGAINST SOPA AND PIPA


	63. Finale: Part Three of Four

Disclaimer: Don't own this.

Author's Note: Part 3 of 4. *grim smile*

I'm sorry about the last chapter guys, that was at the height of those bills and something that I really, really disliked.

Meanwhile, here's 1000 words.

Just 1000.

Sorry again. But I'm sure you want a ~5-10k final chapter and I was afraid that if I started writing it, I wouldn't finish for 3k and make it even worse. XD

**Remove**

She was Aoko, of the Aozaki family. Her lineage had always prided itself on the purity of their magic. She had no circuits diluted - everything did exactly as they were told from birth. Nicholas Flamel, Kischur Schweinorg and Menelaus Barthomeloi had journeyed to a country on the other side of the world - three wise men to meet the Fifth Magician, even as she was born in the the back garden. Her mother was a disgraced woman, after all, and her grandfather had noted with relish that she had died for the Aozaki in the end.

She enjoyed watching her sister shred him when he announced his decision to give her the family magic. He was more mouse than man, at all points in his life. Eager to attack low hanging fruit and maul babies, but a coward when it came to the truly powerful.

Even now, Touko seemed to be more powerful than her. To earn a Sealing Designation before adulthood was a feat that had never been accomplished before.

Touko scared her. The girl liked to kill, liked to maim, liked to control. The worst part was that it was simply another aspect of her personality, seemingly lost to time.

It was over now. The world was but a fairytale now. There were no modern lives, no modern comfort. She doubted a single piece of technology made in the last thirty years worked.

She stared at the Fae.

She didn't disagree with the change. Once more, they had been brought to the age of heroes. She was a Mage, a Magician, a Miracle. She would learn things like no one else and she would live comfortably. The long research of Atlas was now moot and only Nicholas Flamel knew the Truth of the world.

She glanced over at him. He, too, looked happy.

_This will become an age when humans had to prove themselves_, she told herself. She felt it in her bones.

**Kaleidoscope**

"Pathetic," Harry spat, as he deflected yet another curse with a stone.

They weren't.

Lorelei was lying on the ground with horrid burns that Harry knew that Hermione and Daphne were incapable of.

Harry slipped between spaces in the world as the spells went off around him.

He delivered a crushing backhand against Daphne's face, sending her careening into Hermione.

The loud report from Hermione's wand was no different from the other ones, but Harry could taste the failure of a disrupted curse in the air.

"Why can't we win?" Hermione _pleaded_ of Harry.

"Limits, Hermione. Limits."

Daphne's wand moved in more and more complex slashes.

"Catch it," Harry muttered. He drew his arm back and loosed a torrent of magic hot enough to melt flesh.

The game had changed.

Scathach stared Harry directly in the eyes, the glowing spinning Royal Eye and the blood red Right Eternity.

"You always have to twist my arm, Harry," she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

"Stand _down_," she commanded.

Harry fell to his knees, a jet black spell racing at him.

It reeked of death.

He slid his arm along his thigh and a bolt of magic pushed into the earth, sending him flying out of the way.

A slender, beautiful arm came down on him quicker than he could see.

"Ingenious as usual, Harry."

"Never good enough though, am I?" he asked quietly, smarting from the mostly-symbolic blow.

"You should stop moving. Don't make it worse for yourself. You have no power here, not the way you normally do."

Harry smiled secretively.

"You're planning something," she accused, her voice unbearably light and innocent. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that she was a little sister or a young monarch.

"Always."

She chuckled, a few years leaking into her voice as she bent forward and kissed him lightly.

Harry stood.

"Go home."

A murmur spread through the crowd.

"Go home! I will handle this. You are all in danger," Harry shouted.

"We came to fight!" someone roared back at him, but Harry scoffed.

"Your _families_ are in danger. There is something not right with the world," he promised, the full weight of his authority crushing.

"Surely you do not wish to confront her on your own." Harry looked at Flamel for a moment, his eyes conveying a message of reassurance.

It was barely reassuring. "You're too young to carry our burdens, Harry."

"Yet I must."

He did.

There were cracks of Apparition and other, more esoteric, forms of travel as people slowly disappeared from the scene, the large majority of them reluctant.

Nicholas walked over to Dumbledore's body and picked it up in a gentle carry, leaving as well. Perenelle walked over to Harry and Scathach, as peacefully as she could have looked and gently patted Harry's head before leaving as well.

The moon gleamed crimson for a moment when Zelretch finally left, taking the unconscious body of his fellow Marshal with him.

"You have not made good on your promises, Scathach, yet you still own my soul. How is that possible?"

The Summer Lady froze.

"I would argue that I have done so," she said, traces of her anger appearing. This was a treasonous accusation, after all. "I own your immortal soul, right? Ergo, I would have done something to acquire it."

Harry noted the deflection. Doing something to acquire was not the same as winning it by fulfilling her debt to him.

"Look upon my works, Harry... _Potter_." The beautiful resonance of his name astounded him, nearly shattered him. It was the highest note, ringing against him like a bell. "And tell me... do I have need of the Blaze any longer?"

"How did you do it?" He was genuinely curious.

Scathach burrowed her chin against his chest and looked up at him. "Oh, you'll be so proud of me when you realize!"

There was a surge of desire. Harry felt sick. But not sick enough to stop listening.

"I changed _her_ and _her_ and then, _you_." And in a flash, he understood why Daphne wanted to pull her power from the world root, why Hermione had changed so fundamentally.

"You did this. You took their souls, and they didn't even resist. Because it was for me, right?"

She nodded happily.

"Okay." Harry looked straight at her, one eye blue and gold, the other red and black. "Game over. My trump card wins."

Scathach smirked at him. "Against Avalon? Against my domain?"

"Yup. _Izanagi_!"

Harry tore out his eye


	64. Finale: Part Four of Four

Okay guys, I messed up. I messed up really badly. February was National Novel Finishing Month, and so I was like "hey, my nanowrimo work never got off the ground so I think I'm going to get it off the ground now". Now it's off the ground. It has dragons and wizards and secret societies dissolved by time and fallen houses and books of magic sequestered away and powerful things that go bump in the night. I am not going to lie, I love it substantially more than this.

But I owe this to myself as much as I owe it to everyone who hit the review/follow/favorite button, like, ever.

I owe between 5000-10000 words. So, uh, I spent the past several days rereading it and looking over my tons and tons of notes… And, uh, here it is, guys. I hope it doesn't disappoint anyone. I'm probably not going to write that many.

Previously on The Wizard of the Kaleidoscope…

**Mangekyo**

"Okay." Harry looked straight at her, one eye blue and gold, the other red and black. "Game over. My trump card wins."

Scathach smirked at him. "Against Avalon? Against my domain?"

"Yup. _Izanagi_!"

Harry tore out his eye.

**Mangekyo**

_He learned that he had lost the plot when he saw the best minds of his generation destroyed by the cold light of the stick and the always-lukewarm fumes of the bubbling, bubbling cauldrons, blood red and a reptilian green, oscillating between the god-forsaken knowledge of madmen who would rule the world and stern fairy godmothers._

Fate/Kaleidoscope was not the right rune. It was powerful, sure, but it was not an answer, a _counter_, to the designs of Summer. They were simply different in ways that didn't mesh with one another in any way. Sort of like humanity and fairies.

The downfall that Harry pinpointed in humanity was a strange _covet_ for things that seemed more powerful, more beautiful, warm, cold, _extreme_. People lost the understanding of their own beauties, their love for one another, for camaraderie, for honesty that wasn't as naked and pale as the moonlight.

And even as there was the strange, desperate loss that he felt when the slight red wand crumble to dust when the unstoppable force of Avalon pushed against the unmovable stand of Kaleidoscope.

Harry held up his hand to the visibly concerned Scathach as the rune of Summer faded from it. He wiped away the brackish, black blood that dripped from his eye to his lip, his remaining Royal Kaleidoscope spinning a mad blue and gold.

"Not having an eye isn't too much of a burden, I hope?" Scathach said, her voice carrying over the unnaturally still battlefield, a caricature of actual concern.

"No, not really. The Royal Eye provides depth perception."

She spoke again, and now her voice really did carry curiosity and incredulity, "How is it like to live without the promise of immortality?"

"Human."

Scathach nodded briefly.

"It's interesting how your power is derived - off the back of the hopes and dreams of my race, which consists of so much potential and power that one can even feel Gaia herself reverberate to the whim of us."

A brilliant, beautiful chuckle escaped her lips. "It is strange. I think we Fae folk see it as a marked sign of disrespect. We were born, after all, from the strength of magic itself, from deep within the bowels of Akasha, from the continuity of the flow that builds everything of _order_, of perfection-"

"No, not perfection." Harry frowned as he struggled to find the right words. "Repression. The Fae folk are the crystallization of every little repression that we are made of. The Fae folk's human champion was Grindelwald because he was a fascist. Everything had to be productive and ordered and we cater our whims, our desires to fit this productivity and order."

It was Scathach's turn to frown.

"Humanity desires its own repression because it is told that repression is perfection. Because productivity to the highest order will bring this perfection. This is why we're so confused. Why do I feel a surge of warmth within myself when I'm with Daphne or Hermione? Why do I get angry when they're hurt? The way you understand it, it would make me so very mechanical. Oh, of course Harry is disappointed that they aren't creating new spells or making themselves better."

Scathach's frown deepened.

"No. Even if Hermione was dumb as a sack of bricks, if Daphne's hair turned a stringy, mouse brown and she put on sixty pounds, at this point, I would feel no different about her."

"Because you love them?" Scathach now wore a mocking smile.

"Oh, of course. But also because they mirror me. If they were perfect, how different would they be from you? You use me for your ends, to achieve this thing you think is perfection. And you wonder why I hate it… I hate it because… I am human. And I know it."

"Harry James Potter…" She said his name, but he barely felt it now. He had changed, it wasn't the right inflection anymore. "Harry James Potter. Harry… James… Potter." She tried again and again. "Harry James Potter…" And again.

"_Harry. James. Potter._" The strength of Kaleidoscope surged.

"Harry. James. Potter."

"Can't do it?" Harry mocked. "That's because you don't understand me anymore. I have become as alien to you as I thought you were to me. I have thrown off the shackles of the Fae Folk. You do realize why Izanagi has never been among your great powers, the vaunted First Magic? Why Myrddin was the only one capable of wielding it?"

Her breathing was labored, her eyes, so like his, angry.

"It's because, to you, I'm worst than trash. I'm impulsive, I pursue only creation and my desires. I'm Humanity, and oh, you'd love to stamp that out, won't you?"

"Fight me, Harry Potter."

And thus, the battle was joined.

The first volley was something that Harry was entirely prepared for, a jet of flames so hot that trees nearly a kilometer away were burned to ash. The brick and stone and mud structures in the area caught on fire and the innocent - men, women and children who knew nothing of magic, were baked and boiled alive.

Harry looked around him and trained a hated gaze on Scathach. "That was cruel beyond belief."

"But it wasn't unexpected." The second volley came now. She was testing his defenses, trying to read his weaknesses and strength. Harry smiled to himself. She really didn't realize that there was no way for her to harm him. Not with the flames of Summer.

But even as he preserved his blood red cloak from the heat that did not even bring a hint of perspiration to his skin, he could see a streak of blue standing tall in the wreckage of the world, the wreckage of Avalon.

"How appropriate," he muttered. The heat was, too, not affecting the ever perky personality of Aoko Aozaki.

"This is it, Fae, this is war," she shouted, and in response, a star fell from the sky. She pulled it out of the air and her magic shaped it into a bow as she began to chant and chant.

In a flash of understanding, Harry understood why her spells were cast with what were known as the High Speed Divine Words. They were molds of little understandings of magics that Akasha had forged and they were fundamentally so powerful that it was hard to imagine anything but a Miracle standing against them.

The bolt of light she let loose from the bow within her hands flew through the air in an exaggerated motion, headed to destroy the very concept of Scathach. A flash of very real panic could be seen on that face, not beautiful but terrible now as she unflinchingly brought the thought of Summer up to defend herself.

Aoko had already panted and began to sank to her knees as she contemplated the damage she had wrought. She shook her head. "No good," Aoko moaned and passed out. There were irreparable _problems_ with the functionality of Summer now, but she had destroyed the only thing that could have saved Scathach from Harry's wrath.

Scathach was vulnerable and Aoko had shown Harry exactly how.

"You should have left," Harry whispered to the fallen body gently. And then, he found another world.

It was a strange feeling, to be successful on his first try, in discovering exactly what he wanted from the Kaleidoscope. Truly, he had powered it alone earlier, and had only believed that Scathach was helping. He walked over to where Aoko's bow was gripped tightly between her fingers and pried it loose, then aimed it at Scathach.

"Run."

Scathach shook her head.

Harry nodded and fired.

Scathach died.

**Remove**

When Aoko came to, Harry was sitting cross-legged next to two still girls who lay on the charred, black ground.

"You're awake, Blue."

"I am."

"They're not." Harry gestured at the girls on the ground.

"Are they Daphne and Hermione?" Aoko asked, though she knew already.

He didn't respond, but rather slowly conjured a knife and flipped about in the air. His eye was a shade of bottle green again.

Aoko looked intently.

"The world is… rather flat," Harry decided, as he closed his remaining eye and ran the knife along the side of his outstretched arm.

"What are you doing?" Aoko asked, alarmed.

"Testing my nerves. This is a very, very thin blade - so thin that it won't even draw blood. I need to ascertain how much damage has been done to my body."

"That's a strange way to do it. Why not electricity or something quicker?" Aoko took a seat on the ground next to him.

"Magic is… strange to me now. It always returns results which I wish for. Perhaps this is not quite necessary, as my existence is so very immersed in magic to begin with, yet I enjoy the idea of being physical whole."

**Mangekyo**

_He learned he had lost the plot when he felt the oozing limelight turn green with envy through his mused black hair, done with a naked eye before a scolding mirror and forever scolding papers with moving images and the deep sea of Seagrams bottles reflected through the lifelike eyes of the lifelike figurine of a young Harry Potter in the looking glass, the stray bolt of painted red lightning on his forehead fighting off the demons of his race with a downbeat felt by history._

_In the pristine cold still distilling what should have been gin - he could have lost himself in gin - and the pristine rhythm of the remaining students who could still pay their parent's hard-earned cash for a monopoly on knowledge in a cold world sliding ingredients across worn scales and measuring the speed of their stroke together in single-sex dorms and together in foolish wand-waving through the pounding heat of Charms classes he had never struggled in, he sat alone contemplating the mysteries of cosmos without the help of teacher or telescope._

_He was Harry Potter, and though his life had not ended, his story was over._

**Mangekyo**

Let it never be said that I don't deliver, even if I don't deliver the promised wordcount.

Welp, that's over! I can scarcely believe it.

Nowadays when I look back at the first chapter, I can't help but cringe. There are a million things wrong with this story, which I swear I will correct. No, I won't ever delete this version off. While people at DLP may disagree, this IS a source of pride for me. I finished a story. Some people read it and liked it. Maybe a ton more read it and disliked it.

Whatever it is, well, read, review, flame me, whatever. Look out of the rewrite! It's not going to be the rewrite that I already posted, but rather, a bigger project that aims for far more continuity.


	65. Rewrite's Out

For those who are still alerted to this.

Rewrite's out.

Have fun, and please review :D

And since we have to follow the rules.

**Kaleidoscope**

Some people die at some point in history after this story ended.


End file.
